


Dark Tidings

by Bethann, Minniemoggie, Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: AU of Legendary Friendship and Desperate Hours AUs [9]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Action/Adventure, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Mild Gore, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Spanking, non sexual spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gimli, Legolas and Faramir have been summoned by Radagast the Brown to learn more about  how to destroy dark objects.  Strange sightings have been reported at East Bright.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It will help if you've read our previous stories in this series. Please read series notes as you have to accept our A/U for this to make sense. This is a crossover between Susana's Desperate Hours series and Minnie and Beth's Legendary Friendship series

Dark Tidings

 

[Legolas POV]

 

We have been on the road now for almost ten days. On leaving Minas Tirith we took the Great West Road up through Rohan skirting to the east of Fangorn Forest then followed the Anduin northwards passing Lothlorien to the west and today the ruins of Dol Guldur to the east.

 

Originally we thought we would have to travel as far north as the Forest Road but by consulting the trees I found that Radagast had moved back to his old haunt north-east of the Hill of Sorcery so that cut two days off our journey so that we only need to the narrows of the forest and then turn into the great wood itself to search for the actual home of the brown wizard; a place called Rhosgobel.

 

It has been a good journey and I have been feeling lighter and freer than I have in half a year now that I am away from the influence of the stone. The fresh air and freedom have also given me an opportunity to refresh myself and to spend time practicing my knife skills. I have sadly neglected such drills in the last months, which now I am able to think clearly, or at least as clearly as an elf ever could which according to Gimli, is about as clear as mud. I now see my lack of interest in what to a warrior should be part of his everyday life is a result of the hold the stone had on me.

 

I have been fortunate indeed to have survived its machinations given what has happened to others who have been near some of the other dark materials that were recovered from Minas Morgul. Some have sunk into madness, and others have died. How close I came to suffering similarly I do not want to think about. Gimli and Faramir have continued to praise my ability to withstand the call of the stone, for as long as I did. They say that had I not found the stone someone less able to fight its evil might have been completely consumed by it and I have tried to keep that in mind when my spirits sink as I think over the trouble I have caused for those I love.

 

But my own conscience continues to prick me, for I know that I should have been less inquisitive and not gone against the edict of King Elessar to avoid the ruins of the Tower but all of that is water under the bridge now as they say and I have been given an opportunity to show Estel that I may still be trusted to undertake important work on his behalf which is why I have found myself on the road to the southern outskirts of Eryn Lasgalen along with Gimli and Faramir.

 

The signs of spring are all about us as we ride, new life sprouting and growing. It is amazing how swiftly the land has recovered from the horrors of the war. Even the ruins of Dol Guldur perched high on the Hill of Dark Sorcery seemed less malevolent with the sun shining and new green life springing up about the fallen stones of the keep and bridge. Still I was happy to ride on by. What I know and what I have experienced within those evil walls is enough to give me night terrors even now.

 

I think Faramir might have been tempted to explore the ruins for he cast more than one glance at it as Gimli hurried is by. At some stage I will share with him at least some of my experiences there, and I do not doubt it will be sufficient to slake his curiosity.

 

“Stop dawdling,” Gimli scolds him as once again Faramir strains to catch a final glimpse of the ruins. I snigger and then get a sharp reprimand for my pains, “and ye should be concentrating on where we are going Lamb instead of day dreaming. I would like to sleep in a bed tonight rather than on the ground. Ye did say we should reach Rhosgobel today did ye not?”

 

“Yes by late afternoon, if Radagast has not moved again of course.”

 

This line gains me yet another scowl from my guardian, “what do ye mean moved?”

 

“Ah well, this part of the forest was where Radagast originally made his home. That was in the Second Age of course. But according to my father, for much of the Third Age Radagast resided near the Forest Path, close to Beorn’s Home and well away from Dol Guldur. However, the trees tell me he has returned to the southern part of the forest again.”

 

“Well, let us hope the trees know what they are talking about,” Gimli harrumphs, “For after ten days in the saddle I am ready for a rest.”

 

“It makes a change that it is Gimli’s hindquarters that are sore,” I murmur to Faramir, prompting a merry laugh.

 

“What are the pair of ye giggling over now?” my dwarf grumbles but I can see that he is smiling and so it has been over this entire journey. The three of us have come to a comfortable accommodation with each other. Gimli is the undisputed ‘elder’ amongst us and makes most of the decisions on how far we travel when we rest and so on, and Faramir and I are happy for that to be the case even though we have both in our time led patrols and divisions of warriors ourselves. It is a comforting feeling to have someone like Gimli to turn to. He is such a strong character, so determined and so caring, of those he loves. Indeed I know he would lay down his life for either of us, for he has taken Faramir under his protective wing as well as myself. My dwarf is a glutton for punishment.

 

“Ye are nothing more than a silly set of children,” Gimli tells us as we continue to grin at each other.

 

“I am older than you” I reply although I know the argument is an old one and one I am not likely to win but I enjoy teasing Gimli and I believe he enjoys it in turn.

 

“In years certainly, in sense ye have many an age to go before ye reach a time when foolishness gives way to reason. And ye are little better Faramir so do not sit there snickering.”

Faramir rolls his eyes at me and we both laugh, although he then says “I still find it hard to comprehend the fact that you have lived through almost a full age and yet are considered young by those of your folk.”

 

“The way this one goes on he will never be considered anything but young.”

 

“Thank you.” I sniff but Gimli of course takes no notice of my sarcasm he merely urges his pony forward, and Faramir and I are left to catch him up.

 

We travel a few more leagues, beneath the welcoming boughs of the trees which dip and brush my head as I ride underneath them for they are welcoming their prince home although I say nothing to my companions. Indeed my thoughts are on what we might find when we reach Rhosgobel.

 

I have never seen Radagast’s home but I have heard about it and I wonder just how comfortable Gimli will be tonight given what I know.

 

My Adar described the wonder of Rhosgobel to me a few years ago and I admit to sitting agog at what I heard. We elves love nature and revere it but even we do not live quite as close to Radagast has chosen to do.

 

Adar says that on the occasion he last visited Radagast the oak sapling that had taken root in front of the brown wizards front door when he first built Rhosgobel had grown to such an extent that it had split the house into two. But Radagast had chosen not to move it but rather had decided to build and repair it; the building was apparently warped, twisted, and pointed out at odd angles. Part of it was held up only by the props that had been levered up beneath them. Above the crooked house sat a thatched roof and a tall warped chimney but that was years ago. I wonder what it will be like now. I doubt it will offer Gimli the good night’s rest he craves for even if we find Radagast at home, the inside of his home is said to be as eccentric as Radagast himself not to mention the fact that his home is shared by a variety of birds and animals.

 

“What can ye tell us about this brown wizard we are going to visit?” Gimli asks me before adding, “My own father talked of him of course for they met on the quest to Erebor, he said he was like but also unalike to Tharkun which I supposed given who they both are that should not be surprising.”

 

“He was one of the Five Wizards, and the fourth one to appear in Middle-earth. In his earlier life in Valinor he had been a friend to beasts and birds. His original name was Aiwendil, or 'bird-friend' and the living things of Middle-earth became his special province. He also had great knowledge of plants and herbs, and apparently possessed the ability to create illusions.”

 

This from Faramir, who somehow managed to find the time between the owl bringing the letter from Radagast and our setting out on our journey to go into the library and read up on the Maia we were going to meet.

I decide to show my own knowledge for this was drummed into me in the schoolroom for Adar was determined I would know the three different wizards who were in our part of Arda. My father had no great respect for Saruman, even before his treachery was exposed. Ada always liked Gandalf, despite the fact that he considered him to be too full of his own worth on occasions, usually when they disagreed over something I have to add. As for Radagast well his affinity for the creatures of the wild while not unique, for it was to some extent shared by the other Wizards-certainly I know Gandalf could communicate with birds and animals, while Saruman used birds as his spies- Still Radagast’s love was different and deeper and it was this my father had a great respect of so I say.

 

“Radagast was a 'master of shapes and changes of hue' he was skilled at creating phantasms or illusions, or at disguising his appearance.”

 

“Was he indeed?”

 

“So Gandalf told my Ada. I have not had an opportunity to see it for myself yet, did not your own father speak of it Gimli?”

 

“No, he had no great opinion of him. Said he had birds nesting in his hair, mind having said that he did lead the wargs and orc off allowing Thorin and the others to escape, so he could not have been so bad. I look forward to meeting him and given the look of that sky the sooner the better say I.”

 

“But what does creating phantasms mean?” Faramir asks as we urge our mounts onwards into the wood.

 

“I do not know for sure” I answer, “But I suspect that he was a shape shifter, not unlike Beorn. I understand that on at least two occasions Gandalf and those with him were saved by the timely arrival of a moth who then summoned the eagles of Manwë. I cannot be certain but it seems likely that the moth could have been Radagast.”

 

“Well I hope he isn’a in moth shape when we reach this Rhosgobel of yours,” Gimli grumbles making Faramir and me laugh.

 

Following the directions of the trees, I lead my two companions further into the wood. Above our heads squirrels chatter and birds flit from bough to bough as if following our progress. Eventually we ride into a sheltered glade, and a late shaft of sunlight bathes one of the most extraordinary dwellings I have ever encountered. My Ada’s description does not come close to preparing us for what we are now seeing. It seems to me that no law of nature would be capable of keeping this house upright. Radagast must be using some kind of magic or else it is only by good fortune that it has not collapsed.

 

I glance round so I can see the reactions of Gimli and Faramir, and I see my stunned expression mirrored in their faces.

 

“This is Rhosgobel?”

 

“I believe so”

 

“It is extraordinary” Faramir shakes his head, “When I think of Orthanc the home of Saruman this is so… so … unexpected.”

 

“That is one way of describing it” Gimli snorts, as he dismounts. “Do ye think he is at home?”

 

“There is smoke coming out of the chimney.”

 

“Perhaps I should knock on the door, since it seems he has either not noticed or is ignoring our arrival.”

 

“Aye do that, Lamb.”

 

I approach the crooked door and rap on it calling out, “Radagast you summoned us and we are here.”

 

There is silence for a moment; then I see that we are being observed out of the window, seeing that he has been noticed, Radagast waves a hand at me.

 

“Go away” the tone is querulous.

 

“You sent a message to Aragorn Elessar asking us to come.”

 

“Elessar, Elessar … No don’t know him, go away.”

 

“He is the king of Gondor” Faramir comes to stand beside me, “Elrond of Rivendell’s foster son.”

 

“Elrond ye say?” Radagast tips his head to one side, we hold our collective breaths hoping that this name will spark some sign of recognition in our reluctant host but are disappointed, annoyed, or frustrated depending on our individual natures when he pronounces, “Never heard of him.”

 

Gimli obviously tired of this game, growls “Have ye heard of Gandalf the Grey?”

 

Radagast’s face disappears from the window and the door opens slightly giving the three of us our first real glimpse of the brown wizard. His appearance is as eccentric as his home. He is wearing a dark brown three cornered felt hat, decorated with a pheasant feather, his hair and beard are tangled, and liberally sprinkled with grey, one bushy eyebrow goes up the other down, making the face as awry as the house he lives in. His robes are a mixture of materials, in shades of brown and on his hands are knitted fingerless gloves. My eyes are caught by movement on the sleeve of his robe I catch a glimpse of a pair of field mice while at his feet a stoat scurries across the stone floor and disappears into the folds of his robe.

 

“Where is my brother Olorin?” Radagast peers past us as if expecting to see Gandalf standing there and his face falls when he does not see him.

 

“Gone over the sea. Now listen, ye sent for us, ye said ye had news of your other brother wizards aye and Minas Morgul as well.”

 

Once again Radagast tips his head to one side as if thinking, “I have not seen Curunir since the fall of Orthanc, as for Alatar and Pallando they went into the East you know.”

 

“Aye we know that. Look we have travelled for ten days to come here. Do you think we might come in? There is rain in the air and I for one would rather be under cover than out in it.”

 

“Come in? Why would you want to come in?”

 

This time it is Faramir who answers, “You sent for us Master wizard. You said it was urgent. You asked for Prince Legolas in particular.” He points in my direction and I give Radagast a smile.

 

“Thranduil’s son,” He peers up into my face, “ye have a look of him it is true. I liked Thranduil. He had a love of the trees and cared for the good beasts of the wood,” he then stares at Gimli, “Have I met you before?”

 

“No but you met my father, Gloin when he accompanied Thorin Oakenshield on his quest to Erebor.”

 

“Gloin, Gloin, ye say? He had a brother as I recall, what was his name …?”

 

“Oin” Gimli supplies

 

“No that wasn’t it, but never mind, and you young man” It is Faramir’s turn to come under Radagast’s scrutiny.

 

“You are Aragorn’s son.” It is a statement not a question this time. Somewhat flustered ,Faramir flushes up and it is left to Gimli to answer

 

“Aye so he is, so now ye know who we are, can we come in?” Am I the only one to recognise the sarcasm in this remark? From the way Faramir’s lips are twitching I think not.

 

Radagast frowns down at the ground muttering to himself, twists about a couple of times as if looking for something attached to his robes then finally looks up again as a raven caws from a nearby tree. The Maia blinks as if seeing us for the first time and says cheerfully, “Welcome, welcome, come in, come in, and don’t stand in the rain. How good it is to have visitors, mind you took your time getting here I must say, I have been expecting you any time these last ten days.”

 

I roll my eyes at this and see that Faramir is doing the same while Gimli is muttering into his beard about the craziness of wizards but having seen to the care of our horses we do follow Radagast into his home, squeezing in past the oak tree that blocks most of the entrance. If I thought the outside looked odd, the inside is worse. There does not seem to be a straight line of flat surface anywhere, the roots of the ancient oak have prised up the stone flags, and grown up along the walls, the furniture such as it is, is made up of wood fall, and sits higgledy-piggledy. Books and scrolls are piled up in every corner, while various phials and pitchers, vials and bowls clutter whatever space they can fill. There is a fireplace and a stone sink, which appears to be full to the brim with dirty pots and pans. In one far corner a box bed huddles, on which is sleeping a vixen, her cubs, curled up by the fire are a family of hedgehogs while above us in the eaves amongst the drying herbs, and flowers there are a variety of birds.

 

“Make yourselves comfortable”

 

The three of us exchange glances, and I recall Gimli’s wish for a comfortable bed, I doubt that we will find that here.

 

Apparently unaware of our dismay at his living arrangements Radagast offers to make tea. He has to empty more mice out of the kettle before he can fill it and the cups he picks up have a layer of dust and spider webs on them that even the least fastidious Orc might consider made them unappetizing to use.

 

I am about to ask him why he sent for us when he tips his head up as if listening, then he begins to whistle. I think I recognise the sounds of a thrush and am amazed when I realise that Radagast is communicating directly with the bird who has entered through a broken pane of glass in the window.

 

“Yes, yes” he says testily to the bird, “I remember now, no need to go on about it. It just slipped my mind that is all. I’ll tell them, I’ll tell them”

 

Seeing us all looking at him Radagast explains, “he is reminding me that I had important news to tell you. Now if only I could recall what it was …”

 

I suspect this is going to be a long night.

 

“Well the birds tell me that they are abroad again whether that is for good or bad I cannot tell but the beasts of the wood and the field are restless.” 

 

It is amazing to me that so often when I am in a situation that is less than pleasant my feelings of impending doom are almost always correct. Not that I mean to infer that I am in danger, well not much. I suppose I might reach a stage where Gimli’s store of patience grows thin, but presently he seems more concerned in getting Faramir and I out of the way so that he can talk to Radagast.

 

Despite all our efforts to bring the brown wizard back to the subject of why he summoned us he has so far been unable to recall what it was that was so important, and the thrush who first reminded him that he had something to say has gone to its roost and of course Radagast will not waken it to ask for more information, it is very frustrating.

 

Even more frustrating is the fact that we, that is Faramir and I have been volunteered to help clean up Rhosgobel. We were started on the dishes as soon as Radagast offered us tea. Well I admit that, that was not a bad idea. I am not all that fussy, but I would rather not share my cup with a spider or even the snake that Faramir found when he lifted a bowl to move it. Why Radagast cannot keep his home clean I am uncertain, there is no shortage of water, because there are buckets and bowls all over the floor to catch the rainwater leaking through the roof but so it is with the wizards they seem to have no real idea of the practicalities of life. Even Gandalf could be remarkably obtuse when it suited him especially if he thought he could get someone else to do his work for him.

As Faramir and I scrub and clean, Gimli sits with Radagast by the fire, he has used some of our stores to start supper. Radagast does not eat meat, so his meal is in a separate pot, which given the fact that he wanted to ‘flavour’ our own stew with some of his ‘special’ mushrooms is a very good idea in my opinion.

After we have eaten, Gimli suggests that we should get an early night, “Put out your bedrolls” he directs Faramir and me, “ye will both benefit from a good night’s sleep.”

 

Why he thinks that we may be tired, or at least any more tired than he is I am not sure, and I am about to argue this point when Faramir tugs at my arm and shakes his head.

 

“We will just go and check on the horses first” he tells Gimli and tugs me outside into the rain.

 

“I do not see …” I begin

 

“But I do” he replies, “I think Gimli believes that he will do better at getting some sense out of Radagast if the wizard only has one person to communicate with. You can see for yourself that he gets confused trying to deal with the three of us together. In all probability we are the first people he has spoken with for months, maybe even years, he is struggling to remember how to converse, recall how he kept reverting to bird whistles earlier. It is as if it has become second nature with him to communicate with the birds and beasts.”

 

“He asked for us to come here”

 

“Yes, and there is likely something important that he wishes to tell us but we are unlikely to find out what it is by bombarding him with questions.”

 

“I was not bombarding him” I object, “I just wanted to know why he asked us to come.”

 

“As do we all, let us see if Gimli can find some way to get through the fog that clouds Radagast’s mind tonight. If he fails, we can try again in the morning.”

Somewhat begrudgingly I agree to this strategy and on our return to the house. I do as I am bid and find as comfortable space as I can between the tree roots that litter the floor, Faramir lies down next to me and disposes himself for sleep, I merely lie and stare at the cobweb littered ceiling above my head but somehow or other while I intend to lie awake and listen in to the conversation or lack of it between dwarf and wizard I do eventually slip onto the path of dreams.

I am woken by Gimli shaking my shoulder and then doing the same to Faramir,

 

“Wake up lads.”

 

We are both instantly awake, both reaching automatically for our weapons.

 

“No need, nothing more is amiss than the hour.”

 

“Where is Radagast?” I ask searching the darkest corners of the house for our wizard.

 

“Het has gone out to uh … commune with the creatures of the night. He does so every evening he tells me. They often bring him news that the birds and beasts of the day have missed. So, I thought now would be a good time for us to talk. Here have some mint tea. It is all right I made it myself,” he adds with a smile seeing the wary looks on both our faces.

 

“Has Radagast told you what he wanted us to come here for?” I demand.

 

“Yes and no”

 

This response sounds so like a wizard’s words that for a moment I wonder if perhaps Radagast has done away with Gimli and is now impersonating him then I see the mischievous light dancing in those dark eyes and know it is merely my dwarf making fun at my expense.

 

“Gimli!”

 

“Don’t get your braids in a knot laddie. Radagast’s mind may be muddled but there is intelligence there and guile too. Once we had shared a pipe of two, he began to relax a little, and as he did so, his memory returned at least partially. He remembered why he asked particularly for you, it is because of your ability to withstand being in close proximity to dark materials.”

 

I must look sceptical at this but it is Faramir who asks how Radagast would know such a thing.

 

“The birds told him, they are according to Radagast inveterate gossips and news flies as fast through the woods as the birds themselves. It is no good scowling Lamb, that is what he said and ye know yourself that birds carry messages aye and spy on occasions look at Saruman’s crebain. Anyway the birds told Radagast about what we did to bring down the tower and destroy the Fell beast and also your unauthorised trips to Minas Morgul. It seems that they have been in the habit of passing on any information they think useful, since before the fall of Barad Dur. Our wizard may have lived an isolated existence but he has been kept well informed on the doings of the wider world. This is why he knew about you finding and keeping the stone and its growing baleful influence on ye. But it was not until he heard other rumours coming out of the east that he be-thought himself of telling anyone else about what he knew. “

 

“What news from the east?” again it is Faramir who asks the question I am still feeling more than a little peeved at the idea of the birds and beasts of the woods spreading gossip about my doings. It is bad enough when elves and dwarves do it but now it seems I will have to keep an eye on the denizens of the wood as well.

 

“What sort of birds?” I interrupt Gimli’s attempt at answering Faramir’s question.

 

“Does it matter?” Faramir seems more than a little annoyed at my query.

 

“It does to me,” I grumble but seeing that both he and Gimli are frowning at me I shrug and say, “Oh very well. What news has come from the east?”

 

“There have been increasing reports of strange occurrences in a settlement on the very edge of the wood. The East Bight the wizard called it.”

 

I nod, “We know it as The Narrows which were formed by the logging activities of the Northmen of Rhovanion, who at one time lived to the east of Mirkwood. Their so called forestry carved out a great treeless 'bay' in the wood, what Radagast now calls the East Bight. Their activities narrowed the Forest beyond it. But their settlements have been abandoned for many years, since the time of the Wainriders of the east.”

“Well someone is there now. Red and gold lights have been seen in the sky at night and the beasts of the wood and the field are restless and are fleeing the environs of the village.” 

 

“Like the lights in the tower in Minas Morgul.”

 

“Aye, Faramir, from what I can tell just like them, I think the place will bear being investigated before we return to Minas Tirith.”

 

Both Faramir and I are startled by this pronouncement and declare together,

 

“Back to Minas Tirith”

 

“But …”

 

“Why …”

 

Gimli looks amused and then superior, “Aye we have to go back to the White City, think lads … we can’t destroy those dark materials as we wish to do, unless we have them with us.”

 

This comment is so obvious that I actually find myself blushing. How can I have been so foolish as to forget that fact? The only thing that makes it any better is that Faramir had apparently forgotten this as well as I.

 

Faramir however is quicker than I am at recovering, “does this mean that Radagast thinks there is a way to destroy the artefacts?”

 

“Aye lad, he has an idea, and that is perhaps more fantastical than all the rest. He says that the only way now open to us if we wish to ensure these arcane artefacts are demolished we must find a fire drake.”


	2. Chapter 2

[Gimli POV] 

Ten days on the back of a pony is nine and a half days too long in my opinion, and yet the journey to Rhosgobel has been a good one all in all. The spring weather has been mostly pleasant and the company enjoyable as well. Faramir, Legolas and myself have come to a comfortable accord over the last several days and both have cooperated with my efforts to keep them focused and safe as I feel compelled to do, for even though Faramir has not been placed directly in my charge, I know that Aragorn would never have sent him off on such a journey without a contingent of guards if it weren’t for my being here with him. Gondor’s king knows me well enough to know that the family connection I feel towards his son means that I will feel responsible for his well being and will do whatever I can to ensure that the lad doesn’t give in to impulse and do something rash or dangerous as he is wont to do at times. 

With that in mind I have attempted to squelch any signs of such behavior immediately, for it is better to nip such things in the bud rather than to allow any wise ideas to take root. That is why I commanded Faramir not to even look at the ruins of Dol Goldur for I could see plainly enough that if it were up to him he might well have been curious enough to want to explore the area, and I have no desire at all to see what malevolence still remains there. Well that is not entirely true. I admit to being curious, but not curious enough to risk my neck or the necks of my traveling companions over it. Besides I didn’t need him giving Legolas any bright ideas. Surprisingly though, Legolas seemed to agree with me, for he was eager enough to hurry past the Hill of Sorcery but then he has been startlingly cooperative in these last days. 

I believe it may be that my elfling had quite a fright with his encounter with dark items and is still struggling with guilty feelings over having gotten caught up in their thrall as he did, though Faramir and I have tried every way to convince him that he is not at fault and that he actually showed amazing restraint considering the circumstances. Still he worries a little about his original transgression of breaking the King’s decree not to enter the City of the Moon and likely feels he has gotten off very lightly for that bit of naughtiness, which also might explain his uncharacteristic uncomplaining attitude towards my rules and strictures, for the only penalty I deemed necessary was for him to stay within my line of vision for an undetermined amount of time, which actually ended up being only four days, one days in the city and three on the journey.

Fortunately the stricture was still in force when we encountered warg tracks while camping the second night of the journey, else the lad might have been tracking them to slaughter before I had the chance to prevent it. Like me, Legolas has a hatred for all evil beings, but for some reason he recently especially despises the wolfhounds that allied themselves with orcs and were bred with evil intent, unlike the I innocent horses and Mumakil that were used by the enemy. Why this is so I am unsure and declined to find out when he came close to confessing to some incident involving the dreadful creatures when he was last in Aglarond. I had to insist rather firmly that he would not be tracking the beasts and that furthermore he was required to stay within my line of vision, which was not going to be anywhere near any warg pack no matter how much he pleaded. 

Whatever the case I believe it was his determination to honor this sentence that kept him from sneaking off in the night after them at that time, thank Mahal, for such creatures seem to be living in packs in the wilderness now that most of their orc masters have been destroyed. And one elf, no matter how skilled a warrior would be hard pressed to come away from a large warg pack unharmed. 

It was shortly after that, however that I lifted the restriction, for it was more like punishing myself to have to endure his disappointed look each time he wasn’t allowed to take a turn on watch or hunt for us or scout ahead. Besides it only makes sense to use all of our resources for such a long journey, and it only increased the load young Faramir had to shoulder even though he never complained of course. Faramir is a good lad and sturdy for a human, but he still has the limitations common to men, meaning he does not possess the endurance that Legolas and I do. I believe we were all relieved when I made the lad promise not to seek out trouble and then freed him from further constraints. 

After that the journey has been peaceful indeed, and I have frequently found myself marveling at the fact that a dwarf such as myself is traveling with an elven ‘son’ and a human ‘nephew’ and quite amicably at that! I am touched that both of them seem willing to trust me to lead our small party and make most of the decisions for us even though both are experienced leaders in their own rite. It is my opinion that the two of them have had to take on far too much responsibility far too early in their lives and I hope that it makes a pleasant change for them to be able to not have the burden of leadership at least for this little while away from their own domains. I believe it must be so, for they have teased and playfully scuffled with one another and then giggled like children over it for a great portion of the trip. Of course I have to mock scold over such childish conduct, but they know I do not really mean it, for I would put a stop to it if I did. Truthfully it pleases me that they find so much pleasure and camaraderie in one another’s company and that they are comfortable enough to relax and fool around when it is just the three of us alone.

Still, pleasant, as the journey has been, ten days is far too long in the saddle for me, and so I was greatly relieved when Legolas confirmed that we would indeed reach Rhosgobel by late afternoon today. That, of course, was before I saw the place.

Then I did not know what to think. I was half afraid to step inside or allow my charges to do so, when we finally convinced the brown Wizard to invite us in. The place looks like a sneeze could knock it over and I have been taught all my life the importance of making sure a structure, natural or otherwise, is secure before entering it. I am the one often called to fortify buttresses or stabilize buildings once they have been damaged, to design gates and city walls for endurance. To enter into a place such as I saw before me was against all common sense. And yet Legolas had mentioned earlier that the place had been standing since the second age, and the sky looked as if it were about to open up, so enter we did. 

If I thought it odd that my elfling has a mysterious ability to commune with horses and other beasts, that is nothing when compared to Radagast the Brown. The peculiar wizard seems to be able to speak the actual language of everything from thrush, to fox, to the ants in his sugar bowl. Never in my life have I seen such a bizarre sight as this being who shares his home with the beasts of the field and creatures of the heavens. Even his robes and his hair have become home to birds, mice, insects and small reptiles and who knows what else. And I had always thought that Lord Gloin had been exaggerating to enhance the tale! 

“Won’t you have some tea?” Radagast asks us as he dumps mice and spiders out of his dusty teakettle and fills it with water from a sink piled high with filthy dishes. Faramir and Legolas as one look at me in alarm as if they expect me to do something! What they think I can do about the situation I do not know, but I have sworn to myself to protect them from any danger, so I firmly take the kettle from Radagast’s grasp and place it back down on the tabletop.

“In a while, perhaps,” I tell him. “We are well enough without it for now.”

“Instead, why do you not tell us why you called us here, Master Radagast?” Legolas asks him. “We traveled with all haste because of your message.”

“Message? I do like messages!” Radagast returns, “What is your news? Is it important?”

I can see my lad is losing patience for his smile is now forced. “We do not know if it is important until you tell us what it is.”

 

“You were the one who sent for us,” Faramir reminds him. 

“Preposterous!” Radagast says. “I do not recall sending for anyone!”

 

“But you already remembered earlier,” Legolas argues. “Recall the thrush reminded you?

“Thrush? Never trust a thrush I always say,” Radagast advises, and then seems to begin a conversation entirely in whistles, that the birds on his person seem to understand and respond to. Radagast turns his back on us and is nodding in agreement with whatever the birds are saying, and when he turns back he looks startled to see us. 

“Are you still here?” 

“Of course we are!” My lad is no longer even pretending to smile. “You asked us to come.”

Radagast begins to whistle and chirp again. It is obvious that so many strange folks asking questions and demanding answers is confusing the eccentric fellow, who clearly communes better with animals than people. Faramir must see it as well, for he catches my eye and inclines his head toward Legolas who is nearly sputtering in annoyance. 

“Look, Master Wizard. I have the proof right here.” Legolas reaches inside his tunic and brings out the letter written in Radagast’s own shaky hand, but I can see that such measures will gain us nothing. It will be much better for one of us to speak to Radagast alone, giving him plenty of space and time to think rather than peppering him with questions that only confuse. 

“Never mind that, Laddie,” I say, placing a hand on my lad’s shoulder. “Why don’t we have that tea after all? We could all do with a hot cup and a meal I think. Ye and Faramir can scrub the kettle and cups for us first, for I am not keen on mouse droppings in my tea. In fact I believe Rhosgobel could do with a good cleaning all the way around! I will start supper for us.”

This time Legolas turns his glare on me.

“I do not even want any tea, and I’m not hungry!”

“Well I am,” Faramir offers, grasping Legolas by the arm. 

“But why should we…” my elf begins to grumble, but stops when I frown in a way that he knows means he is close to crossing a line and Faramir tugs at his arm. We both speak at the same time.

“Ye’d do well to do as ye are told elfling”

“Come Legolas, it won’t take us long.”

After that Legolas complies though he manages to look both disgruntled and mystified at the same time, while I sort through our stores to find something to make a stew. I go at it quietly, not speaking to the wizard, but it is not long before Radagast begins to look interested in what I am doing and begins making a meal of his own. He even offers to share his special mushrooms, which I decline immediately, for this place is fantastic enough with any of us taking to having hallucinations! 

By the time the stew is bubbling nicely the wizard begins to go about what must be his usual routine of feeding his many housemates, or encouraging them outside to hunt for themselves. He even goes so far as to spread seeds and breadcrumbs over his floor for the many birds roosting in his rafters much to the annoyance of my lad who only just swept the floor. Legolas keeps silent though when Faramir elbows him and hands him a dry dishtowel to work on the piles of now clean dishes that fill the dishpan. I want to laugh at this exchange, but I control it, for I do not wish to destroy the now much calmer atmosphere by drawing attention to myself. Once his animal companions have been seen to, Radagast finally takes up his stew and I do the same with mine, wordlessly handing bowls over to Faramir and Legolas, who join us by the fire.

It is clear that only one of my two companions realizes what I am trying to accomplish, for Legolas looks ready to explode with complaints. It is understandable, for this has been long journey that has ended with a very trying day. We have traveled for days only to find that the important message we were promised may not be revealed to us at all, and my lad is not best known for his patience. No doubt he is frustrated beyond measure and I am compounding that by giving him a quelling look every time he opens his mouth to say anything. I feel a bit badly about it, for we have been on such good terms this whole trip, but I can hardly explain in front of Radagast can I? At least Faramir realizes and is doing his best to communicate with significant looks, meaningful touches and soft throat clearing, which Legolas is too peeved to pick up on. 

Once we have finished the simple meal, I decide the easiest thing will be to get the two of them out of the way altogether. Since it is storming outside, sending them on an errand is out of the question, so I suggest that they put out their bedrolls even though it is just past twilight. Evidently this is just a bit too much for Legolas, who scowls at me and then opens his mouth to object, but Faramir breaks in.

“We will check on the horses first.”

He then hauls my lad outside in the storm, where he evidently explains things for when they return they simply obey my request, though one more willingly than the other. 

Even my considerable patience is tried over the next few hours for the wizard sits for a long time before the fire, stroking the silky fur of the four fox cubs who have come to sleep in his lap. He holds a quiet but animated conversation with their mother, but ignores me completely until I pull my pipe out of my pack. His eyes light up then.

“You must sample my special pipeweed,” he insists leaping up from his chair and rummaging through boxes and drawers, tossing things hither and yon until he comes across what he is looking for. “I grow it and dry it myself here at Rhosgobel.”

Here he shoves an odd looking tin in my hands. I removed the lid and sniff the strange looking weed. The aroma is sweet and enticing, and I take a pinch between my fingers and pack it into my pipe. I am about to light up when the word ‘special’ comes to mind. It reminds me of the ‘special’ mushrooms he offered earlier, so I decide I had best decline the ‘special’ pipeweed for the same reason. Rather than risking offense, I only empty the pipe in my pocket while the wizard is not looking, and then pack it with my usual pipeweed instead. 

Once we have slowly smoked two full pipes, I am beginning to wonder if this is a fruitless exercise and am just wondering what move to make next. Perhaps I’d be better served to go to rest myself and see if one of the lad’s has better success with the wizard tomorrow. I am just about to do so when Radagast finally looks directly into my face and begins to speak. 

“I have dark tidings, Master dwarf, dark tidings indeed,” he tells me, his eyes growing clear and somber for the first time, “The denizens of the woods and of the creatures of the heavens request your assistance, you and your companions.”

“What do they ask of us?”

“They tell me that the young heir of Gondor has lead his men into battle into the Moon City and has ended much darkness that dwelt there. And that you, yourself have beheaded a fell beast alone and have lead your own kind in cleansing the area with fire and destroying many evil items.”

“It is so,” I acknowledge. “We burned and melted down what we could, though some items could not be destroyed in our fires so are being held in special containers in a guarded room in the White City.”

Radagast nods knowingly. “Some things cannot be unmade with ordinary fire. You will have to bring them north to the Withered Heath where Fire Drakes still reside.”

“The Withered Heath is all the way to the Grey Mountains! It will take weeks to collect the items and go so far north,” I can’t help pointing out. “And a Fire Drake is far more dangerous than a Hell Hawk.”

“Indeed, indeed, but there is no other way,” Radagast states very firmly. “The items must be brought to ruin. The three of you have all withstood the call of the One Ring, so you are tried and proved true and Thranduil’s chick has shone unusual endurance against dark artifacts I hear. You must bring him along for he will be a great asset to your endeavor. I have been told he is very skilled and very brave, but the birds tell me to remind you that you must watch him closely as well as he is still rather prone to the recklessness of youth.”

I don’t need any birds to remind me of that! But rather than say so, I only nod and continue to listen to the wizard as he tells of another concern, something that is taking place in East Bright that he believes bears looking into before we return South. It seems that the spring and most of the summer will be taken up with this quest. I can’t help wondering what Aragorn will have to say about it, and I’m not sure how I feel about it myself. But at least we should make the journey to East Bright to spy out the area. 

Eventually Radagast goes off, saying he has a meeting to attend in the woods, and I go to wake up the lads and tell them of what I have learned. We agree to leave at first light and then I settled down to attempt to sleep for the few hours left before daybreak. 

Dawn finds us following in the direction of the sunrise riding away from Rhosgobel. On a good road or even a well worn path East Bright would be less than a two day ride, but as it is we are picking our way through thick forest and crossing small streams all the while being on the lookout for whatever malevolence might be hidden in these woods. The forest is healthy enough now, but we are aware that there still may be a few dark creatures left roaming the woods, something that is borne out to us on the second evening when we find a small clearing to set up camp. We have just gotten the horses settled, fed and watered, and unloaded our supplies when Faramir, who is searching out dry firewood, makes a discovery that gives us pause. 

“Umm Gimli…I think we should move our campsite.” He tells me while staring down at something on the ground. 

Legolas hurries over to see what Faramir is looking at, and then glares down at the ground. 

“Warg Tracks!”

I look as well and sure enough the clear tracks of two good-sized wargs can be seen all around a large cedar tree and then they disappear into the woods. 

“Do ye think they are fresh Lamb?” I ask.

“Not very fresh, at least two days old I’d think,” Legolas tells me. 

“Still a little close for comfort,” Faramir points out, and I tend to agree with him. There is no point in taking any chances. 

“Let us move on then.” 

We hurry to break camp, packing up everything including the firewood and move deeper into the woods until we find a new clearing not too far away. This one is a bit further from fresh water, but on careful inspection we find no warg tracks, which makes it a deal better than the last one. Once again we get everything unpacked and settled and before long we are sitting around a small campfire frying some middling sized fish that my lad caught when he went to fill the water skins. 

Faramir and I discuss how soon we expect to arrive to the large clearing of what my lad calls, The Narrows, and whether it is a good idea to try to arrive under cover of dark or not. Legolas seems distracted and irritated and keeps looking over his shoulder toward our old camping place until I can no longer ignore him and have to ask what the matter is.

“Ye’ve been huffing and grumbling since we moved campsites. What has ye so out of sorts, elfling? Is something on your mind?”

“Aye, I was just thinking how much I’d enjoy slaughtering those horrible creatures,” he spits, “ Their tracks would be easy enough to follow.”

“That they would,” I agree. “However ye’ll just have to live without that particular pleasure, for ye are not to even look at those track again, let alone attempt to follow them. Heed me well, lamb.”

“But shouldn’t we do what we can to rid these woods of all evil? How can we sit back and do nothing?”

“Legolas, lad, we do not know what we might find at the end of those tracks. What if the warg are traveling with a pack? We’ll leave it for others who have greater numbers to deal with it.”

“And so that’s that?” Legolas asks sarcastically. “We should do nothing and just let the creatures go along on their destructive way, wreaking havoc everywhere they go?”

“Aye, that’s that and dinna ye forget it!”

“But..”

“Gimli is right, brother, it is too dangerous,” Faramir gently agrees, “But perhaps we could inform your father so he could send a hunting party? Couldn’t you send a message via the trees?”

“Good thinking, Faramir!” I say. “Tell your trees, by all means, Lamb, but get any thoughts of following yon warg tracks out of your head. Is that plain?”

Legolas sighs lustily but nods in agreement, though he continues to grumble and scowl, even when we try to bring him into our light banter. After about half an hour of pointed glares and ill-mannered one-word responses I finally feel I have to speak up again.

“Ye’ve been pouting long enough, elfling. I think it is about time ye tell us what is truly on your mind, for it is not like ye to be so bloodthirsty, especially toward dumb creatures, even if they were bred for evil intent.”

“It is true you seem unusually incensed,” Faramir says. “ Is there a reason why wargs in particular trouble you so?”

“I’ve told you before,” Legolas frowns, “They are just so…so…destructive! 

It’s the same word he used before to describe the beasts before, which I find a little strange. Dangerous, certainly but destructive? I begin to wonder if there is a story here somewhere. 

Faramir must feel the same way for he asks, “Has something happened that we don’t know about Legolas?”

Legolas glances up at me as if to gauge my mood, so I only look back at him expectantly and try not to look too intimidating, else we may never hear the tale. I must succeed for he eventually decides to clue us in.

“Well since you asked, we actually had a run in with a pack of wargs some months back. Almost a year ago in fact, back when I was working on starting a large peach grove.”

“I recall ye mentioned something about it,” I say, “but I thought ye must have changed your mind.”

“No Gimli, I didn’t change my mind, it just didn’t come to fruition. As you know, I know very little of farming, for we elves have generally lived off of the bounty of the woods and by trading, but Faramir has been a great help to me, and we have managed to successfully plant a few crops.”

“I am happy to hear it.” Faramir nods.

“A peach orchard seemed just the thing at the time, for peach trees bloom beautifully in spring and then produce lovely fruit, so it would kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, by beautifying the land as I’ve been charged to do and providing food for Ithilien’s residents at the same time, besides providing a crop to trade. We worked very closely with the farmers Faramir sent and one thing they drummed into my head was to plant at least double of what we needed, for much would be lost to wild creatures.”

“One for the blackbird, one for the crow,” Faramir smilingly begins to recite

“And that leaves just two to grow,” Legolas finishes the rhyme. “Exactly. That’s what we were told and it turned out to be very true, though with the peach saplings it wasn’t blackbirds or crows that competed with us, but deer. The deer could be found in the orchard daily, but even so most of the trees thrived under our care. For months we babied the orchard, even preventing the saplings from being broken over by a late ice storm, by gently breaking them free of the ice one by one. It was cold and backbreaking work, but seemed worth it. The trees flourished and grew to the stage where they were less vulnerable to cool weather or heavy storms.”

“And yet the orchard isn’t there now.” I say, “So what happened Laddie? Had it to do with wargs?”

“Indeed it did. You can only imagine how I felt when one day I went out to walk among the trees and check how they were faring only to find not one single tree standing.”

Faramir and I both groan in sympathy. What a disappointment that must have been!

“The deer had attracted a large pack of wargs to the grove and in the process of hunting them had destroyed every single tree!” Legolas frowns at the memory now. “All our hard work gone in a night, our beautiful orchard replaced by reeking mutilated deer carcasses!”

“That must have been terribly frustrating, lamb, and I certainly can sympathize,” I say, “but seeking vengeance on these wargs will not make up for not being able to seek revenge on the others.”

Rather than saying anything further, my lad only looks at the ground and flushes up at my comment making me realize he is leaving something out. I am about to ask about it when Faramir beats me to it.

“Your high color is telling, my friend. Why do I feel there is more to this story?” Faramir teasingly asks. “What happened next?”

“Umm…well…” Legolas scowls at the young human, seeming at a loss for words, which lets me know that whatever he is avoiding saying will not be something I would like to hear. I brace myself, for whatever it is, but then my elfling brightens as if remembering something. “That I do not have to tell you Faramir! Gimli has already said so, when I rescued your sorry self from the air vent when last we were in Aglarond.”

I am puzzled briefly, but then recall that I had told the lad that we could ‘call it even’ on the warg incident he almost confessed to after his daring climb up an airshaft to free Faramir who was stuck there. Faramir chuckles at Legolas’ triumphant expression and I laugh out loud and slap my knee at the comical look on both of their faces.

“Aye so I did!” I agree. “There is no need to continue the tale. In fact it is probably better that ye dinna do so, though I hope ye learned something from whatever mischief ye managed to get into! For now I suggest we call it a night. Faramir, why don’t ye take the first watch, lad?”

Faramir amicably agrees and rises to walk over to the edge of the clearing where he can clearly see us near the fire, but also keep watch on the surrounding woods. Legolas and I spread out bedrolls, but before we retire, I feel I need to reiterate my earlier decree for it is clear that my elfling is still disgruntled about not being allowed to hunt down the warg.

“Legolas, I wish to speak to ye before we go to rest,” I say keeping my voice very stern, but quiet also for privacy. I can see that he only just prevents himself from rolling his eyes, but looks at me expectantly anyway and speaks respectfully.

“You do not wish me to follow the warg tracks we spotted earlier. I understand, Elvellon, and I will not.”

“Dinna forget it!” I say, “And dinna doubt that ye’ll find yourself in a great deal of trouble if ye give in to temptation and return there, for I am not afraid to heat your rear end for ye even if we are in the middle of the wilderness. Keep that in mind as well.”

“I already said I won’t forget,” he protests sounding a little hurt that I would feel the need to make such a threat. “I haven’t actually done anything wrong you know!”

“See that it stays that way,” I growl, but then soften the sting of the words by stroking the hair back from his face and leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Sleep while ye can, lamb, for Faramir will be waking ye for the middle watch in a few short hours.”

Only that turns out not to be the case. Instead it is me that someone is shaking urgently in the middle of the night. At first I think it is my elfling waking me for the final shift, but it is Faramir’s voice I hear instead.

“Gimli wake. We need you.”

I see by the moon that it has only been a short while since I fell asleep, and the fact that Faramir is waking me during his watch means there is a problem. I am immediately on my feet, axe in hand before I notice Legolas already standing armed with his bow and his quiver strapped on his back. I look around for a dark foe, or wild creature or some sort of danger, but all I see is Faramir frowning at my lad, while Legolas stands with his mouth gaping. Faramir hurries to calm me.

“I did not mean to frightened you, friend Gimli, there is nothing amiss other than Legolas and I need you to weigh in with your vote on a difference of opinion we were having.”

I feel my racing heart begin to return to its regular rhythm as I realize there is no immediate danger, but now I am very puzzled indeed.

“My vote? In the middle of the night? Could it not have waited until morning?”

“You shouldn’t have woken him!” Legolas snarls and flushes dark red, whether with embarrassment or anger I cannot tell, but it is Faramir who answers my question.

“I am sorry to have disturbed your rest, but I am afraid it could not wait until morning,. Legolas and I are having a disagreement about the necessity of him hunting down the wargs tonight. I’ve told Legolas I think it is unwise, but he seems to need to hear it from you. Perhaps you could break the tie?”

My confusion is replaced by anger, for everything is suddenly crystal clear! 

“I will be happy to offer my vote in the matter!” I growl. “Just as soon as ye go back to your watch, Faramir, and ye, Elfling, put down your weapons and get over here.” 

I point to a place on the ground right in front of me. 

“Shall I scout out the area a little?” Faramir asks.

“Dinna go beyond the clearing, laddie, just as ye were before. Ye are on watch and ye must not leave the campsite vulnerable.”

Faramir nods and hurries to the edge of the camp, offering Legolas one quick sympathetic, if not apologetic, look. Legolas slowly removes his quiver, laying it gently on the ground alongside his bow, and then hesitates until I snap my fingers and point to the spot before me again. After that he hurries to stand before me, nervously shifting from one foot to the other and wrapping his arms tightly around his torso. 

“If ye have anything to say, ye’d best say it quickly!” I order. 

“I really hate wargs, Gimli, and…and…there were only two of them. I thought I could be back before anyone noticed.”

I raise a skeptical eyebrow, for this line of defense is one of the weakest I’ve heard from him. 

“So ye thought that if no one found out about it, it was fine to defy my direct orders and break your word?”

“No, not exactly. I…promised not to follow the tracks we saw and I didn’t plan to. I...I saw new ones a little ways off from them, and I hadn’t made any promises about those…” He let’s that trail off and tries again. “I didn’t even step one foot outside of the camp, so I was never in any danger.”

“I see. And do ye think any of your flimsy excuses will change the outcome of this discussion?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then ye suppose correctly, youngling, for ye knew exactly what I meant when I warned ye not to go after those beasts, isn’t that so?

He nods, but then glancing up at my expression he answers as well. “Yes Gimi it is so.”

“Then ye won’t be surprised about what happens next. Step forward.”

He looks up startled.

“Now?”

“Aye now. Let us have this done so at least some of us can get some rest!”

“But, Gimli!” Legolas’ eyes go toward where Faramir is standing with his back to us at the edge of the campsite.

“Dinna, but Gimli me, elfling! I clearly outlined what would happen if ye were to disobey me on this issue and ye knew that Faramir was with us when ye made the choice to do so. I am certain we can count on the lad to practice discretion, but it is not safe for anyone to leave the campsite. Ye have only yourself to blame if ye are not happy with the arrangements for privacy now that ye’ve been caught out in your naughtiness. At this moment it is the best I can do for ye. Now step forward!”

He offers me one more pleading look, but I remain firm. I always do my best to avoid situations like this, but he was fairly warned and this time there is no other way

I assist him in obeying my order to step nearer by grasping his upper arm, and pulling him closer. Then I yank him forward so that he is pinned under my left arm and balanced on my left hip. The differences in our heights mean his hair and one hand touch the ground, while the other arm grabs at my calf for balance. He barely has time to yelp in surprise before I have peeled his leggings down to his knees and delivered a dozen stinging swats to his perfectly placed backside and a dozen more to the tops of his sit spot and upper thighs. The spanks are light enough that he should not even be able to feel them by morning, but rapid paced enough to be startling and to have him yelping and dancing on the spot. Since my goal is to make this punishment memorable without being too harsh, I hold him in position for a moment after I am finished rather than helping him to his feet right away.

“For the rest of this journey I expect ye to obey what ye know I mean rather than looking for every loophole in my words. Intending to mislead with words and promises is no different from lying or from outright defiance in my book, so think on! Is that plain, young elf?”

Considering his defenseless position, there is only one answer to that question, and so he gives it, not sobbing but sniffling a little.

“Yes Gimli. I’m sorry”

“Aye I know ye are, lamb, but you’ll be a great deal sorrier if we have to have another conversation like this one. I willna be so merciful for a second offense.”

“I understand and I will remember.” He promises, and I know it is taking all of his self control to try not to struggle out of position, but he manages it quite well considering the circumstances. 

“All right then, I trust your word.” 

I help him to his feet, and as soon as he has reordered his clothing he drops to his knees and throws himself into my open arms. I let him weep softly into my shoulder, while I stroke his hair and offer reassuring words, letting him know that all is forgiven. Or at least it is between the two of us. I am not sure he has forgiven Faramir for preventing his evening hunting plans to begin with. I address that now.

“Faramir was only looking out for ye, laddie. Ye know that do ye not?”

When he does not answer, I lift his chin and add, “Ye could have been killed, Legolas. Ye left him little choice. Ye can forgive him for that surely!”

He drops his eyes, so that I cannot read his expression, but he does at least nod as if in agreement. 

“Good lad. Now why do ye not lie down and rest while I go to relieve Faramir. I will wake ye for your watch.”


	3. Chapter 3

[Faramir POV] 

I look into the darkness, trying my best to ignore the unfortunate sounds of a spanking in progress behind me. I feel badly for Legolas, I do, but it is not as if I didn’t try to make him see sense. Nor had this been how I had wanted to spend my watch! 

Blessedly the spanking does not last long. I think that Legolas is lucky, in that Gimli is more sensitive to the feelings of his charge than my older brother once was, aye, or my father, who thinks little of swatting me in front of family and friends if my behavior has offended him. He has mostly stopped doing so since I told him that I find it upsetting, but I am still sensitive to how upset and embarrassed my elven heart-brother must feel right now. 

A few moments of soft sobs and the gentle, deep rumble of Gimli’s voice pass, and then my dwarven uncle is walking over to me. 

“Get some sleep, Faramir lad. This will likely blow over, come morning.”

He seems both grateful and exasperated, though when he looks back at Legolas’ golden-silver blond hair just peeking out above his blanket, his dark eyes near glow with a father’s love, and even pride. I must say, Legolas is a son anyone would be proud of, even when he is caught out in sophistry and attempted mischief, he confronts the consequences of it with grace and courage. Well, as much as is possible while upended and bare-bottomed in a forest clearing while an irritated dwarf “casts his vote”! 

“I hope so,” I say, with a rueful sigh. “There wasn’t anything else I could have done.” 

“Of course not.” Gimli agrees, “Ye did the right thing, and I doubt my lad will hold it against ye once he’s had a chance to realize how terrible it would have been, for the both of us, had anything untoward happened to him on such an ill-considered late night excursion.” 

That is likely the case, I reflect as I walk back to the smoldering fire. However I do not want there to be any dissent between the three of us, as we go into a potentially dangerous situation in the East Bight. I debate whether it is worth troubling Legolas, who is only feigning sleep, to talk about the matter. I should perhaps put aside the notion until morning, when Legolas will hopefully be less sore in more ways than one, especially as I cannot apologize for having woken Gimli. I warned Legolas that I would do so if he did not put the thought of pursuing the wargs aside, and I could hardly let him walk into danger alone and uncounseled. 

Legolas settles the matter for me, by opening his eyes and fixing me with a hard, offended stare, “How could you? After I have always covered for you while you are off playing spy!” 

“It is not the same thing.” I tell him gently, not unaffected by the hurt in his blue eyes, “Every mission I have been on since the end of the war has been approved in the planning stages by at least two other officers, and often Aragorn himself.” 

“A fine line, Faramir.” Says Legolas, “As he doesn’t know that it is you whom he has been sending into danger!” 

“You are right.” I concede, “And should you ever feel that telling Gimli – or Aragorn – is the right thing to do, or simply not wish the weight of this secret on your mind any longer, then I will not be offended should you tell one or both of them.” I hesitate for a moment, “Preferably Gimli first.” I add, as Legolas and I had discussed this, in Aglarond, and had both agreed that Aragorn would be much less likely to lose his temper entirely if Gimli were present to calm him. It is not that I am afraid of my father, save the fear of losing his respect and affection, but the thought of how he would react to my having continued to risk myself in this matter…well, it is not a pleasant one. 

Legolas sighs, and reaches out his hand to take mine. “I would tell Gimli, first.” He promises. 

I squeeze his hand in thanks, grateful – and honored- by the friendship of this distant elven cousin, who, despite his sorry state and my having been in part the author of the offenses to his adolescent pride this night, cares enough to offer comfort and support. 

“I have not gone on one of those missions, since we returned from Aglarond.” I tell Legolas quietly, “I was only captured the once, when I was a teenager, before the whole thing was really in place… We were lucky, then, that another merchant spoke for us to the Haradrim soldiers, convincing them that we were not the spies they accused us of being. But not before they had the chance to try and get us to confess, and….” I take a deep breath to keep myself from shuddering at the memory, “But if that were to happen, now, and if they were to find out that I am my father’s son….” 

I do not have to explain further. Legolas understands, as well if not better than anyone in the world. 

“I was captured, in Dol Guldur.” He confesses, all of a sudden. His hand within mine curls into a fist. “When I was there for Mithrandir. I thought….I thought that I would tell, that I wouldn’t be able to hold out…and then they finally went away, and left me too long…I had a chance to get away. But what could have happened…and what I saw there….” He is now shivering openly. 

I tug Legolas and his blankets into my arms, having a care not to put pressure on his rear, but wanting him to feel my arms around him, to know that he is no longer in that place. 

He buries his blond head against my chest, breathing harshly as he suppresses old fears from terrible things that happened to him before I was even born. 

“It is….usually not so hard, to put these memories aside, to just…not think of it.” He whispers, his hand grasping my tunic laces. “But now, so close to Dol Guldur, even though it is no longer what it was….it is hard….” 

“You are safe now, brother.” I remind him, still holding him closely. 

“I know, and I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t be so weak, but I thought…I thought if I went after the wargs, that I would remember who I am, that I do not have to be afraid, even in the shadow of the Enemy’s house, where I failed and nearly died….”

As quietly as Legolas is speaking, something about his tone or perhaps the connection between them results in Gimli turning his head. From here I can see the line of his back stiffen in concern. I can see that he is ready to come over. I shake my head at him. I think that I can handle this, and if not, I will most certainly ask Gimli for his aid a second time. 

“Don’t be foolish, Legolas.” I reprimand him, as Gimli returns his attention to the dark woods about us, “You did not fail, and it is not weakness to be troubled by such fears and memories. However,” I move one hand to tip up his chin, so that I can look him in the eyes, “It is my right as your friend and your brother to keep you from risking your own life, just to prove your bravery to yourself, when none of those who love you are in doubt.” 

Legolas considers that, and the nods, and even smiles a little. “You will not resent it, then, if I return the favor sometime?” He asks, evidently feeling better enough to get some of his own back by teasing me. 

I chuckle, and move him into a more comfortable position against my side as I lay us down again. The stars come out between the blowing clouds. I run a hand comfortingly over Legolas’ back. “I think it would be more than safe for you to tell Gimli of your experiences at Dol Guldur, my brother. He is not the type to punish you for something that occurred so long ago, and at least in part at the behest of Mithrandir, besides.” 

“Perhaps.” Replies Legolas noncommittally, but even the thought of doing so seems to relax him. We are soon both asleep. I do not even wake when Legolas takes Gimli’s place at watch. 

The next day the trees begin to thin, ever so slightly, as we approach the East Bight. We leave our horses in a clearing with fresh water and enough forage, and approach the site of the human settlement on covertly, following Legolas’ lead. I had often been told by visitors to Ithilien the way we rangers had of moving through our forest was so seamless as to be nearly uncanny, but it is nothing to how the son of Thranduil moves though the trees which view him as their own. 

And he feels their pain, as well. “The humans who have come here most recently have burned a great deal of the wood, and infected some of it again with fear and pain.” He reports. 

“Most recently, my lad?” Gimli asks. 

“Aye. Apparently they had more mixed feelings about the leather and wool clad men who had begun to build here, since the end of the war. Those men brought their women and children, and only cut down the trees they needed for warmth, or to clear paths for their creatures.” 

“Descendants of the Rhovanions, do you think?” I ask. 

“Or the men of Dale or their allies who lived this far south.” Gimli theorizes, while Legolas nods. 

Creeping stealthfully through the thinning trees, we soon see a wooden settlement, surrounded by a high wall of felled trees cut into spikes at the end and toughened with resin. The new structure has four watch points, and its gate is open to admit men dressed in the fashion of the Rhunnish, Khandian, and Haradrim mercenaries who had served the Enemy in the late war. 

Legolas’ eyes narrow at the sight, and Gimli’s hand on his axe handle tightens. 

After a half hour or so of observing and listening to what we can, we withdraw far enough not to be overheard, following the course of a creek. It takes almost half a mile, and Legolas sweet-talking some holly trees to let us pass, before the water is unfouled. 

“Masterless curs.” Legolas observes. 

“Aye,” I agree, “Not just soldiers who served Sauron, but those who refused Aragorn’s compassionate offer as victor to return to their homes and peoples with no further sanction.” 

“And now they’ve come here to oppress good folk just trying to build a life for themselves and their kin.” Growls Gimli. 

“And….” Legolas hesitates, “They have a….look, about them. Worse than the Southrons normally do, I mean. They feel…as if they are being influenced by an artefact.” 

“Dinna ye go and feel guilty for that, again, youngling. What’s done is done and I, for one, am grateful that ye can tell us more of what might be influencing them.” Says Gimli firmly. I feel the same, but I think it is more persuasive coming from Gimli, who has, among other things, threatened to spank Legolas if he keeps lashing himself with guilt. 

“We need to know more about what is going on inside those new wooden walls.” I murmur distractedly, pondering the best way to do that. 

“I think I can get close enough.” Says Legolas, “At least under cover of darkness.” 

Gimli shakes his head. “Nay, lamb. Not unless the situation becomes dire. There’s a good three hundred yards they’ve slashed and burned between the treeline and those watch towers.” 

“Aye, and tonight bids fair to be cloudless. The moon will be bright – best to wait, even if we can’t think of something surer.” I add. 

Legolas sighs, but nods. “Really, what would be best is to get someone inside the settlement, so that we can know what is transpiring there. Faramir, did you say you heard that one fellow say that they had a wizard captive?” 

“I believe so, yes, although by wizard they might not mean a true ithron, but only a man who wields one of the artefacts and has some skill at doing so.” 

“Bad enough,” Opines Gimli, “And if they’ve left any of the original settlers alive as captives, that’s enough reason to help, if we can.” 

I have an idea, but I’m not sure it will meet with any approval.

“I could just go in as one of them, a soldier who fought in the losing side of the war and is now looking to make his fortune elsewhere.” Even as I make this suggestion, I am pulling small pouches and nested metal dishes out of my pack, mixing the contents of one with water from the creek.

“I dinna think so, Faramir.” Gimli tells me shortly, “’Twould take a blind man to believe ye one of them, red-haired and light-skinned as ye are.” 

“Not if I look like one of them.” I counter, using a kerchief to brush skin dye over my face. When I am done with that, I rub some dark oil from a different pouch into my hair brush. It quickly turns my hair as dark as that of our Haradrim neighbors, and is not easily removed without an application of a different herbal oil mixed with alcohol. 

“My spoken Khandian is poor, and my Rhunnish is indifferent, but my Haradrim is good enough to pass," I conclude modestly, having finished with altering my appearance. 

Gimli is openly staring. Legolas looks intrigued, and asks me a number of questions about how the different dyes work and how quickly they can be removed. 

I answer readily, adding at the end that, “I do have drops that will change the color of my eyes. But doing so is somewhat uncomfortable, and it takes near a bucket of water to rinse it away if I need to do so prematurely. Enough of the Haradrim have gray eyes that I’d rather leave them as they are.” 

“And how is it that you know these tricks, my lad?” Gimli asks, an expression I cannot quite read on his face. 

“Our spies use them.” I reply, being careful with my words. “And all of my rangers did, on some occasions when we crossed the border as part of a planned ambush, but did not wish to commit to the action before we had better assessed the numbers and armaments of our enemies.” 

“I dinna like the idea of sending ye alone.” Gimli says. 

“Best be careful, then, that Faramir doesn’t just go off and do so himself in the night.” Jests Legolas. 

I blush, which is not quite as easy to see with my face darkened. It is understandable why Legolas might make the jest, after my foolish attempt at an unauthorized departure from Aglarond, but the need would have to be far greater for me to do such a foolish thing! Why even have comrades, let alone ones as fine as Legolas and Gimli, if one is not going to rely on their wisdom and aid? 

“Faramir would not do such a thing.” Gimli defends me, to my satisfaction, before turning and demanding, “Would ye, lad?” 

“Not unless one of our lives was at stake, or something similarly dire.” I reply quickly. “I do think that it may be our best option, though. I am confident of my ability to appear as one of them long enough to gather information and return.” With good reason, but I don’t go into that, and Gimli mercifully does not ask. 

“I don’t like it, either, Elvellon.” Says Legolas, “But it is hard for us to know what should be done without knowing the lay out of the settlement, and what is occurring there. If Faramir could learn that, we could make better-informed decisions. I think that it would be safe enough.” 

“Well, it is a good thing that I am in charge, then! The both of ye are too hasty,” Complains Gimli. 

Legolas seems content to leave it at that, despite a bit of disappointment. I have more to say.

“You are Legolas’ guardian, and like an elder kinsman to me. I respect your experience and level-head, and as we are not in Gondor or Ithilien, I do not have a responsibility to make my own decisions based on my authority there.” 

Gimli eyes me, both fond and firm, and asks, “So, are ye saying that ye respect me, but ye’ll respect what I say only so far as ye like?” 

“No, no,” I assure him, blushing again. “I am saying that I will heed what you say, even if I do not like it. In part because you are family and my elder, but also because I know that you are fair enough not to decide against a plan just because you do not like it. Or to dismiss my abilities and experience, and Legolas’, just because we are younger and less cool-headed.” I smile at Gimli’s irritated expression, and add mildly, “Even if you sometimes need to take time to consider the best course of action.” I am thinking now of Gimli’s initial unwillingness to have me be the one to go into Minas Ithil after Legolas, and more of his reluctance to let Legolas join the team that would go back into that accursed city first, over the high wall. 

“Ye’ve made yer point, Faramir,” Says Gimli, more exasperated than amused, but I think he sees the humor as well. “Dinna bother taking off that ridiculous guise. I may yet change my mind. But first let’s look around the area more thoroughly. Legolas, did ye not say that you saw footprints that ye did not think were from the Haradrim?” 

Legolas had, and we do our best to follow them. An expert tracker and forest haunt our elf may be, but he does not know these woods as well as whoever left these footprints. We are concentrating so much on tracking our quarry, that we are utterly taken by surprise when a trap is triggered under our feet. We all move out of the way of the pit and the net in time, but we are most thoroughly distracted when six men burst out of the under growth ahead of us. 

They are armed with slings and bows, staves and swords. Their first missiles might have hit us, but they are clearly aiming for shots that are disabling rather than deadly, and we are much more experienced at combat than they appear. Legolas is shooting back almost instantaneously with me but a heartbeat slower, while Gimli secures a line of retreat to a fallen oak behind us. Both Legolas and I pause as we note that our enemies are not trying to kill us. But they are still shooting, and trying to get the range to have at us with the swords and poles as well, so we have no choice to fight on, albeit trying ourselves to just keep the distance and slow our attackers rather than slay them. 

We call out that we are not with the Southrons and their allies in the settlement, but the leather and wool clad men besieging us do not seem to understand. They look a bit like Eowyn’s people, and their language, after listening as they clumsily call back and forth to one another, strikes me as similar to Rohirric. When we are about halfway to gaining the safety of the log with friendly trees to our back, I gather from their rather inexperienced chatter that they do believe that we are with their enemies who captured their settlement and their families. Feeling suddenly guilty for my disguise, and hopeful that we could end this attack if we could just understand one another, I yell out to them in Rohirric that we are from Gondor and the allied Kingdoms, and not with their enemies. 

The very young man who is apparently in command hesitates, but then renews his attack, saying something about how the men of the woods will not be fooled again. One of their arrow heads grazes Legolas’ sleeve as he shoves me out of the way of another. We are going to have to at least hurt one of these hot-headed fools if they do not cease the attack, or else risk being harmed ourselves. 

“Go back to Gimli, you’ll have a better shot from there,” I tell Legolas. When he is far enough back not to stop me, I lay down my weapons and do my best to convey in their variant of Rohirric that I am surrendering so that they will see that we are not their enemies. If we can gain their trust, we’ll be much further along in our efforts to understand the situation here and do our best to fix it. And besides, I hate the thought of being forced to kill or wound a man who might be an ally, especially one as young as these. The oldest of them might be thirty-five, but most are barely old enough to grow a real beard, including their leader. I can tell that some of his companions would like to listen to what I say before doing anything else, but he strikes my head to knock me down. I falter, and then do not struggle as he grabs me and pulls me against him, his sword to my throat, yelling to Gimli and Legolas to put their weapons. 

“All will be well, do not worry!” I call back to my companions, growing more confident of my own ability to make myself understood in this new language, and of the likelihood that at least some of these men are inclined to reason, by the harsh scolding that their leader receives from two of them for mistreating me. 

The youth holding me hostage does not seem to care for the criticism, as he presses his sharp blade against my throat hard enough to raise a thin line of blood. 

“You are not helping yourself, warrior.” I criticize him, as Legolas expertly aims an arrow to just miss his foot. I desperately hope that I have not overestimated my ability to handle this situation. It would be a truly stupid way to die. Even allowing myself to be captured has limited my friends’ options. 

“Quiet, southern scum!” My captor commands me, pulling me along with him deeper in the forest, hopefully in the direction of someone more senior to him, who has better sense and manners. 

I am not further abused as the woodmen guide me through a truly cunning and elaborate series of hidden trails and distracting obstacles. I gather that my rude captor is named Terric, and that his companion Ernald believes that Terric’s father Fordwin will be most displeased that they have abused someone who had surrendered and was offering them no further harm. Ernald further tells Terric, with several others agreeing with him, that Fordwin will be angry enough to blister his son’s foolish backside. 

Given the bruise blossoming on the side of my head, the cut on my neck still oozing blood, and my very likely worried companions, I rather hope so too. 

Fordwin, a tall man with white braids and a large axe, is waiting impatiently at their cleverly well hidden camp when we get there. I am relieved to see not only Fordwin but also a half dozen older men and even a few women, several of whom seem to speak at least a little Westron. I ask for water, a little wine, and several herbs, which a bright-eyed older woman with long white braids supplies for me. Quickly most of my face has resumed its normal appearance, and the level of suspicion amongst my audience has greatly diminished. 

I am not far into my story when I have said enough that not just Terric but also his companions, all younger sons and less experienced warriors, are in trouble, as they had apparently been told to put aside the idea of capturing Southrons to hold hostage, and also not to attack unless someone was much closer to their camp than we had come. The wrinkled but lively woman who gave me water, who is called Gerta, openly berates my captors, and apologizes for my hurts. 

I assure her that I am fine, and that the unfortunate even was understandable, given that I had donned such a disguise so that my companions and I could infiltrate the settlement. Chief Fordwin, who has ordered that I be given dinner as well as wine, asks what our interest here is. I explain that we intend to see what might be done to liberate the settlement, or at least gain enough information to be able to come back with reinforcements and do so. I am beginning to hope that there may be enough of the woodmen hiding in the forest that we will not have to seek reinforcements. I dislike leaving a situation like this, and I know that Legolas and Gimli would feel the same. 

Upon learning that we hale from Gondor and its allies and are here to help, Fordwin and several of the other elders offer an alliance as well as their apologies. Even the now sheepish Terric apologizes. Given the glare he is receiving from his father and from several men who look like they might be his elder brothers, I am graceful in accepting the apology. I do ask that some of them accompany me back along the trail we came. I sense that Legolas and Gimli are already nearby, but their appearance further back along the trail will be less alarming to our new allies than just calling them forward into the camp. 

Ernald and Fordwin guide me back along the path. We have gone only maybe a quarter of a mile when I hear Legolas whistle, a sound which cleverly mimics the song of a dusk bird. I tell my woodsmen companions that the sound is a signal from my friend and brother, and then answer it. Gimli and Legolas appear from behind us on the trail. I can tell that it is difficult for Fordwin and Ernald to avoid reaching for their weapons, but they manage it. 

I am very grateful to see my dear friends, and apparently they me as well. Gimli embraces me while Legolas keeps a wary eye on the woodsmen. Gimli then pushes me back and holds me in front of him, his strong hand running over my limbs as if to make sure that I am all still in one piece. I have seen him do this with Legolas before, which of course makes sense because Legolas does not always share with us when he has been injured. 

I laugh and put my hand on one of his to stop him, “I am well enough, “Uncle” Gimli. Peace.” 

He bats my hand away and tells me to hold still. He glares at Ernald when he sees the scabbed over and cleaned cut on my neck, and again when I wince as he runs a careful hand over the bruise hidden under my hair on the left side of my head. 

“Ye’ll do.” Gimli concludes, reaching up to cup my face for a moment. “We will be discussing this later, Faramir.” He promises, before turning his attention to the woodmen. Legolas, who had at first seemed angry under his relief at seeing me hale, is almost sympathetic as he takes a hand from his bow to squeeze my shoulder tightly. 

I return the gesture, grasping his arm. Then I have no more time to think on our reunion as I must make introductions. 

“Gimli, Legolas, be known to Chief Fordwin and Ernald of the woodmen.” Turning back to the woodmen, I continue, “Fordwin, Ernald, be known to Gimli of the Kingdom of Erebor, and Legolas of the Wood of the Green Leaves.” I leave off my friends’ titles, and had introduced myself at the woodsmen camp only as a warrior of Gondor. “Legolas is like a brother to me, and I regard Gimli as highly as my own uncle.” High praise, that, as I think they know. 

Ernald hastens to apologize again for the ambush, and for permitting Terric to treat me so roughly. 

“I do offer ye a promise,” Fordwin says in broken Westron, “That I shall be teaching m’son better than beating a crazy man, or a brave one who has offered his surrender.” 

I have rather gotten the impression that Fordwin, while grateful for my surrendering before his son or his men could be harmed, rather thinks I was a fool for doing so. He doesn’t say so, however, at least not at first. He is focused on obtaining allies to retake their settlement, or at least to rescue their people held hostage there. 

Gimli agrees that we will accompany them back to their camp to discuss the matter further. I lean on Legolas a bit as we return, as I am exhausted and I have a bear of a headache. Gimli is speaking with Fordwin as Ernald watches the rear of the trail. 

“Don’t ever do anything like that again, Faramir.” Legolas says, quietly enough for no one else to overhear. “Not that you’ll be minded to, after Gimli’s done with you.” He ends with a sniff. 

It is my turn to wince. I had known that it was an unkind thing to do to my friends, that they would worry and that it would put us all into a worse situation if I’d misjudged our attackers, but I still felt like it was the best option at that point. What Gimli might have to say to me, I choose not to dwell on. I’m not feeling my best, and I will need to be awake enough to translate, although Fordwin’s Westron wasn’t bad to begin with, and seems to be improving quickly with practice. 

“I am sorry that I worried you.” I apologize to Legolas, who shakes his head and eyes me with a mix of disbelief, annoyance, and relief.

“Not sorry enough.” Legolas concludes, after a moment, and then continues, “But you will be, I think. My guardian has a heavy hand when someone has “worried” him, and you nearly throwing yourself on someone else’s sword like a suicidal fool did “worry” him, to say the least!” 

I get the impression that Legolas thinks my adjective of “worried” an overly mild one, and imagining myself in Legolas’ place, or Gimli’s, I wince. I would have been frantic with concern, I realize. Hopefully Gimli will not feel that he must spank me to drive this lesson home, whatever Legolas thinks, but I can’t do anything about that now, nor is it likely to come up in the woodsmen’s camp. 

Legolas is distracted as we arrive by how cleverly the camp is hidden in the lee of two different heavily wooded hills, with the wind carrying the noise and smells of the inhabitants up and away toward the west. We are offered a warm welcome. I am heartened to see that there are as many as thirty five men and a handful of women in the camp. If they can all fight as well as Terric and his followers, albeit somewhat more wisely, then I think they will have doughty allies, indeed. 

Fordwin and the other woodsmen treat us with all honor, offering us the best seats by the largest fire in front of Fordwin’s tent. Terric and the other four men who were with him offer us their apologies, their faces blotchy as if they might recently have been crying. They all decline to take a seat at the fire. Fordwin requires Terric’s presence, but the young man chooses to kneel instead, as the woodsmen share their hearty supper and the tragic tale of how they were driven from their home. 

It is Gerta who begins, her hand held by Fordwin, who it seems is her nephew. “The bloodthirsty monsters, they…hide…”

“They hid behind the trees.” Fordwin takes up the tale, “Until after most of us had gone out to hunt before a feast.” 

Gerta nodded, “I was in woods, near our home, with my granddaughter and friends. They came…with fire and poisoned gas, their eyes….like glowing coals. They took everyone, and kill those who go back to try to rescue.” 

She uses the Rohirric word. Gimli and Legolas seem to understand, so I do not feel that I need to distract from her tale by translating. 

“My brother, who was our leader, was killed. Then they forced our captured kin and friends to help them build high wall around our stolen home.”

“And they’ve taken other slaves, as well.” Fordwin says angrily. 

We all agree that the situation must be rectified and their people rescued, but how to go about doing so is a stickier issue. Ernald and Terric, who by now is lying down half in the lap of Fordwin’s oldest son, propose that I disguise myself again like a Southron, and that one of them can pretend to be my newly captured slave and go in to spread the word amongst the captured to be prepared for a battle. 

Some of the woodsmen and Gimli and Legolas could be gathered near the treeline, Ernald adds, prepared to mount an attack if we gave a signal, or to try a rescue if we didn’t. 

Legolas proposes that if he had his bow, he could easily take out at least two of the guards in the watch tower, making a sneak attack possible. 

Neither Fordwin nor Gimli seems to like this plan. I don’t blame them; I don’t really like it either. There are too many things that could go wrong, although I’m not sure if we have a better plan, at least for the initial intelligence gathering. I’d rather not take Ernald, and definitely not Terric, as they do not seem like they would be particularly good at a covert operation. I am tired enough that I can tell I am not at my best, and the evening mercifully ends with Gimli and Fordwin agreeing that we can take up our planning again in the morning. 

Fordwin flatly insists that we take the tent normally shared by him and his two sons. It seems that they have more tents then men since the last attack they mounted to try to retake their settlement, and Fordwin wants to show how much they appreciate our aid. 

“Besides,” Fordwin says to Gimli, as he finishes cleaning a large wooden spoon that had been used to stir the stew, “I think that you might have something to say to your “nephew” that would best be handled in private.” To my shock and dismay, he then winks at Gimli and offers him the now sinister spoon, whilst Gerta invites Legolas to sit by her at the fire and hear her tale of how she once met the great King Thranduil of the Greenwood himself. 

Xxxx


	4. Chapter 4

Legolas POV  
   
I watch as our new ally Fordwin offers a wooden spoon to Gimli and share in Faramir’s dismay, I am relieved but no more so than Faramir when Gimli waves it aside even while making a gesture with his head to Faramir to make a move towards the tent that we have been allocated for the night.  
For a moment my attention is distracted by the woman Gerta who seems to want to talk to me of her meeting with my Ada, of course I am interested in hearing her tale but presently my concern is for my friend.  
   
While I share my guardian’s dismay over Faramir’s actions earlier I cannot feel that he deserves to be so public ally embarrassed and from the knowing smirks and comments from the other elders about the fire I am certain they know or at least suspect how Gimli will deal with his nephew’s disobedience.  
   
I get to my feet saying, “I will go with you Faramir.”  
   
I am unprepared for the two stares I receive in return for this, well I suppose I might have anticipated Gimli’s disapproval I am surprised when Faramir looks equally censorious.  
They both speak at once telling me that my presence is not needed. But I am not about to let this go without making every effort to speak on Faramir’s behalf even if it seems that he would sooner that I did not.  
   
“I need to speak with you.” I tell Gimli  
   
“Aye and so ye shall, when Faramir and I have finished our discussion, sit ye down here Lamb.” Gimli tries to push me back down onto the log that has been drawn up to the fire but I duck out from his grasp.  
   
“Legolas, please” Now it is Faramir who is trying to get me to stay where I am, does he think I wish to be present when Gimli takes him to task I most certainly do not, I appreciate the fact that he tried to give me what privacy he could when Gimli addressed my ‘naughtiness’ as he put it.  
   
“It will not take more than a moment or two, but speak to you I must.”  
   
“Ye are walking on very thin ice here youngling” Gimli warns  
   
“I know it, but I think I also deserve to be heard” I respond trying to convey to my guardian how important this is to me.  
   
He looks at me closely before nodding, “Come along then but mind me elfling when I say it is time for ye to leave the tent ye will do so, else ye will not in the least like what will happen next.”  
   
I am quite certain I would not yet I will have my say no matter the consequences. I have had time and more to think through what happened earlier when we were first challenged by the woodsmen.  
Initially I was as furious and as outraged as Gimli but the more I think it over the more I realize that had our places been reversed I would very likely have done something similar. It makes a certain kind of sense well if you have a warped mind like I do, and apparently Faramir does as well, had we run into a band of Silvan elves who were under threat from outsiders it would be natural for me to have tried to reason with them and to try and protect those with me, just as Faramir did and I suspect that would also be true of Gimli were we to have met with dwarves who were not aware of the way the world had moved on and how the different races were working together again.  
The woodsmen had good reason to be suspicious  Faramir was disguised, they have been ill treated by men such as he appeared to be, and the young warriors were unsure on how best to react even when Faramir spoke to them in language that was quite close to their own dialect.  
   
I cannot say that I liked being left behind while Faramir was taken away but we were not prevented from following them and it soon became clear that the elders of the village had no intention of harming him so that we decided to wait and see what would happen next, for we both knew that if anyone could talk the woodsmen round it was Faramir and so it proved.  
So, I really do think that Gimli is in danger of overreacting, whether I can persuade him to agree with me and so save Faramir from a paddling I am not certain yet I have to make the effort, it is only what Faramir did for me after all.  
 I follow Gimli and Faramir into the tent, it is quite large but very basic not at all like the tents that Adar uses when he travels or even like the ones Eomer and Aragorn use. It appears to be mainly used for storage for there are boxes and barrels stacked around the sides, while sleep mats, weaponry and cooking utensils are piled up wherever there is a space.  
Someone I suspect it is Gerta has attempted to make sufficient space in the center by the post for our bags and sleeping rolls.  
   
“Well lad?”  
Gimli’s question breaks into my thoughts and I almost flinch at the shortness of tone, I hesitate and he growls, “ye were determined enough to have your say, ye had best get on with it.”  
I square my shoulders and seek out Faramir who is standing somewhat awkwardly by the central pole. “Gimli I know that you are angry about what Faramir did”  
   
“Whatever gave ye that idea I wonder?”  
   
I know when Gimli becomes sardonic that I have to take great care, “I was angry as well” I begin again, “but the more I thought through what he did, the more I realized that I would have acted similarly in such a situation.”  
This time there is a short bark of laughter and a snort from my dwarf to accompany “Why doesn’t that surprise me? The pair of ye have less sense than anyone I know, and as for thinking that I might find the fact that ye would have acted in just such a daft fashion reassuring ye are well off the mark laddie. All ye have achieved here is to reinforce my views on the fact that neither of ye is fit to be out without a minder.”  
   
“Gimli!” Faramir protests but is immediately silenced by a look from him. I am not so easily quietened.  
   
“That is unfair Gimli, we have both acquitted ourselves well on this journey and …”  
“Oh yes, and what of the wargs?”

I flush up at this reminder, “Well, I admit that was perhaps not the brightest thing to have done but I have paid the penalty for that and …”  
   
“Aye, just as Faramir will pay for his foolishness, no Lamb I have heard your words but I canna say they have made me change my plans by one iota.”  
   
“What would you have done?” I blurt out.  
Both Gimli and Faramir stare at me in incomprehension, so I ask again, “what would you have done Gimli had we met a band of dwarves who could only speak Khuzdul and who threatened me or Faramir?”  
Gimli sighs, “I see what ye are saying and perhaps there is some truth in what ye say, but it doesn’a change the situation we have here, for that is not at the heart of my disapproval for what he did.”

Now it is mine and Faramir’s turn to stare incomprehensively, and Gimli’s turn to explain. “Did ye not say to me only few hours ago or so ago that ye would heed me lad and you needn’a smirk either Lamb, for ye chose to go against my orders to let those wargs go, no do not try and justify yourselves either of ye. I told the pair of ye plain enough that I was in charge on this journey and twice now ye have both chosen to deliberately flout my authority. This one” he points a finger at Faramir who grimaces, “getting himself captured and hurt in the bargain, that is twice now ye have done something similar while in my care lad and I intend to make sure it is the last time,  I willn’a have my authority flouted again. Do I make myself clear?”

Faramir flushes up at this reminder “Yes sir. Only it … it was not deliberate, I just could not think of another way of getting them to realize that we were friends not foes. And … the fact is that when I am away from Minas Tirith I have got into the way of making choices and decisions for myself I have not had to consider the fact that I might have to answer to another.”

“Well get used to it lad, for if ye are to travel in my company ye will do well to remember who is in charge, and to ensure that ye do I think it is time we settled this business between us. Take yourself off Lamb” he waves a dismissive hand in my direction “while I make sure that Faramir remembers his promise a little longer than half a day this time.”

I look behind him at Faramir who gives me a wan smile, “Thank you for speaking up for me Legolas but Gimli is correct I did forget my obligations to you both and it is time to pay the piper. Do one small thing for me if you will.”

I raise an eyebrow in question“When you go back to the fire, offer to sing some songs, maybe one that Merry and Pippin taught us with a lot of clapping and stamping of feet … It might um… hide what is going on in here.”

“Aye that is a good idea, for while the pair of ye may not think it, it is not part of my plan to humiliate either of ye before others.”

“I know it elvellon” I tell him

“As do I” Faramir adds.

“Aye well ye are good lads, on the whole” Gimli adds before shooing me out of the tent. My intervention has not changed anything it seems but I can do this one small service for Faramir and I will so I smile as I reach the fire and say cheerfully  
“How about a song or two to while away the night”  
   
If the elders are aware of the motivation behind my suggestion they do not show any sign of it merely asking me to begin, my sharp ears pick up the sounds coming from the tent as we go into a fifth chorus of the Maid from Michel Delving, our hosts probably do not understand more than one word in ten but they join in with the foot stamping and clapping with enthusiasm still I am relieved when Gimli returns to the fire and joins me patting my knee and giving me an approving smile for my efforts.  
    
Rather than immediately retiring to the tent to see how Faramir fares I sit and listen to two more songs that the woodmen sing for us then as if he knows how anxious I am Gimli suggests that perhaps it is time for me to take to my bed roll. For once I do not choose to argue the point that in fact I need far less rest than anyone else present for I know that what Gimli is offering is for me to go to Faramir.  
   
I nod goodnight leaving Gimli smoking his pipe and slip into the tent Faramir is lying on his side facing away from the opening I am unsure whether he is asleep but he turns on my entrance and then raises himself up onto his elbow.  
   
“How are you?” It is a foolish question but how else am to find out how he is.  
   
“I am well enough considering the circumstances.”  
   
“Gimli was not too harsh with you I trust.”  
   
“No I cannot say he was, he made his views on my choices very clear to me and I cannot pretend that I am not very sore presently but I will be well enough come morning.”  
“That is good to hear”  
   
I sink down cross-legged onto my own bedroll and take out my arrows to check their fletching. It is an activity that always calms me and it gives my hands something to do. Faramir watches me for a few moments before adding “Thank you for attempting to intercede for me I am in your debt.”  
   
“You are welcome,” I keep my eyes on my task as I add, “Have you had any time to think of what we should do tomorrow?”  
   
Faramir chuckles, “I have not had much opportunity to think my friend, other than to wish I had made a different decision when we met the woodsmen for the first time, but one thing I am certain is that the only way we will get the answers we seek is to find a way inside the settlement.”  
   
I nod saying, “I agree and I think Gimli will also come to that conclusion but whether we can persuade him that we should be the ones who enter the village ...”  
   
“We?”  
   
I give him my best haughty elven lord glance, “You cannot wish to go alone, and I am the natural choice of the person to go with you.”  
   
“Legolas, you will stick out like a sore thumb.”  
   
 “If you can disguise yourself you can disguise me.” I indicate Faramir’s pack, “You and I work well together and what is more if there are indeed arcane materials in that village then I will certainly know it.” I can see that I have scored a point with that comment, and seek to follow up my advantage by adding, “I am sure between us we can persuade Gimli to agree to us being the ones to go.”  
   
“But I have no desire to persuade him that you should accompany me”  
   
“Faramir you said you owe me.”  
   
He scowls at my attempt at blackmail, “not as much as that, Gimli would have my head should I even suggest such a thing and I would not blame him.”  
   
I take a deep breath before continuing “You know you cannot take Gimli, and it would not be safe to take one of the exiled villagers they would quickly be recognized either by those still held in the settlement or the enemy and there is no way Gimli would let you undertake this alone. It has to be me. All I ask is that you support me when I mention it to Gimli.”  
   
“There will be no need to mention it to anyone either of ye”  
   
Faramir and I swing round to see Gimli standing silhouetted in the entrance.  
   
“Fordwin and I have talked over the best way to get the information we need if we are to make a success of freeing the villagers and find out if there are indeed dark materials in use.” He looks from one to the other of us, as if weighing up his words carefully. “This goes against the grain with me, but ye are right Lamb we canna send in one of these folk, and the pair of ye are canny fighters and accustomed to ferreting out information …”  
   
I exchange a triumphant glance with Faramir, “We will be very careful …”  
   
“Ye will be more than that, hear me both of ye, and make sure ye heed me well. There are stipulations and these are not negotiable.”  
   
He goes on to explain what the plans are for getting Faramir and I into the village, Faramir begins to grin just as my mouth drops open and I stutter, “You cannot be serious”  
   
“I am in deadly earnest Lamb, it makes good sense that ye are both disguised as Haradrim, Gerta says she can come up with clothing for the pair of ye which should pass muster. Faramir here will take the role of a trader, who has had his goods confiscated by the Gondorian authorities, that will explain why ye have no bags and baggage with ye, and you Legolas will be his wife, no do not dispute this with me, ye canna speak their language, if ye went in as his prisoner ye would be separated which is something we want to avoid, and from what Fordwin tells me, if we disguised ye as a young mortal lad, ye would not be safe from molestation. As a woman, as Faramir’s wife ye will be considered off limits and pretty much invisible which will allow ye to use your sharp ears and eyes to find out what we need to know.”  
   
“I will not do it”  
   
“That is your decision of course, but make your mind up to it lad, that ye will not go in under any other guise.”


	5. Chapter 5

Gimli’s POV

 I wait and listen as Legolas sings the first verse of the song to the woodsmen just outside this tent. When the crowd joins in with the chorus, stomping their feet and clapping their hands I feel I can speak without being heard by anyone other than Faramir who is still standing uneasily before me. He looks surprised when my first words are not to order him to my side.

“I am sorry for the scene in front of the folks outside, Faramir lad,” I apologize, “I had meant for us to leave quietly. I fear Legolas made that impossible by insisting to come along with us. But the laddie meant well, and I hope ye realize that his heart was in the right place at least.”

These words seem to make Faramir relax a little and he smiles indulgently at the memory.    
“Of course it was,” he says. “I very much appreciated the sentiment anyway. And the song.”

“Aye well the song has about a million versus, but I am not sure how many of them my lad knows, so I believe it will be best to get on with things right away, if ye have nothing to say first.”

He swallows visibly but shakes his head, and then looks around the tent, and then at me for direction for there is no obvious location to take care of the matters at hand. I look around as well and end up pulling a large sturdy looking trunk more toward the center of the room, and then covering it with what appears to be a wolf’s pelt from a pile of furs. It seems rather silly to be concerned about Faramir’s comfort considering what is about to happen, but he must already have a fierce headache from his first encounter with the woodsmen and there is no need to contribute to that on top of everything else. I wave him forward and he does not hesitate to come to my side, but hesitates when he gets there, again as if he isn’t sure how to proceed.

“Loosen the ties of your leggings, lad and I will do the rest,” I instruct him. After he has complied I tap the back of his leg to indicate he should step closer, and then grasp him by the arm and guide him into place across my lap, making sure his head and neck are in a comfortable position so as not to cause him further damage, and then giving him a moment to steady himself. 

After that I get on with things quickly, peeling his leggings down to mid thigh and bringing a heavy hand down hard and repeatedly. I feel him tense and shudder, but other than that there is little reaction, unlike my elfling who likely would be howling by now. Not that Legolas is less able to deal with the pain, but more likely because he is comfortable enough with me to cry out. And, I suspect, because he knows that, as much as I hate to admit it, I am a little susceptible to being moved by tears. 

With Faramir it is clear I will not be able to judge by his reaction when he has had enough. It is obvious by the scars and old weal marks that cover him from shoulders to knees that he will be able to endure stoically whatever I can dole out, and I, of course, have no desire to truly harm him, but only with to make my views well known. So when his fair skin has gone from pink to scarlet and a couple of sharp slaps to the backs of his thighs have engendered a soft yelp or two, I decide I have made my point well enough, though I keep him in place for a moment longer.

“I dinna insist on ye heeding me just because I wish to order ye about, lad. I do so because I canna stand the thought of something dreadful happening to ye because ye were too rash and reckless to think things through properly. Letting yourself get taken by folks who genuinely thought ye were the enemy was far too risky, even if it did work out in the end. Those young ruffians could have slit your throat just as easily as what ended up happening, and then Legolas and I would have been charged with delivering the news to your family. Can ye imagine what that would have done to them? And to us?”

“I am so sorry, Gimli,” he says ending on what sounds almost like a soft sob. “I just didn’t think.”  
“Ah well, I believe ye will think the next time will ye not?” I say, patting his shoulder.

“Aye, sir, I believe so,” he says, and then adds as if to be scrupulously honest. “At least I will try.”

“Then I can ask for no more than that,” I say, hiding a smile. I then help him right his clothing and get to his feet and watch as he turns his back and fiddles with the ties of his leggings for a moment. After that he turns back to face me but doesn’t seem to know where to place his eyes or what to do, so ends up shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other. I am not sure what to do either, for again he is unlike my Legolas who would simply hurl himself into my arms, or climb into my lap seeking comfort. Faramir, on the other hand, looks as if he would prefer me to leave, but I am reluctant to do so. He may not feel entirely at ease seeking comfort from me, but he looks dearly in need of it just now. 

 

Making a decision, I stand and say briskly, “Come lad, it is time ye turned in for the evening.” 

“I am well enough,” he protests as I busy myself putting out his bedroll.

“That may be, youngling, but ye’d do well not to push your luck just now don’t ye think? Have ye learned nothing at all?”

I am teasing, but he doesn’t seem to see it, for he flushes miserably before apologizing once again. 

 

“Forgive me.”

This time I take his hand and guide him to lie down on his side facing me. I stroke his hair back from his face. 

“Look at me, Faramir,” I say softly but firmly, and when he lifts his eyes to mine I continue. “There is no cause for ye to fret and worry, and there is certainly no reason for ye to apologize again. Ye have done so already, and I believed the first time that ye meant it. Once a thing has been settled between us, it is over. There are no grudges between family, and it is too late to disclaim me as a kinsman, laddie, even if ye wish ye could.”

 

He smiles at that, and replies, “I would never wish that…Uncle…”

I can see that he is concerned at how I will respond to his using this familial term, and I am touched that he was willing to take the risk, but I only chuckle and wink at him.

“Ye may well change your mind my brother son, if ye get into mischief again anytime soon, for between ye and yon elfling I’m just about worn out. Another time I may have to resort to making use of Mistress Gerta’s proffered spoon just to save my poor hand.” 

“I shall try to avoid that at all costs, I swear.” 

“Good lad,” I say, “Now I should go and rescue Legolas from having to sing verse fifty of Maid from Michel Delving, else he might lose his voice entirely.”

I then take a chance of my own and lean down to kiss Faramir’s red-gold hair. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, and simply closes his eyes when I encourage him to do so. I continue to stroke his hair for a moment longer, making sure he is beginning to relax and breath easier, and then I go out to join my lad by the fire. 

Legolas looks relieved to see me, and not just because he must be running out of verses. I can see right off that he would like to go to Faramir but does not wish to make the request for fear of bringing more attention to the lad, or perhaps he thinks I will deny him. Whatever the case, I make the suggestion that he head to bed to save him having to ask. He would like me to believe he never needs to rest, but I happen to know from having learned more about young elves from his own folks that that is not as true as he would like me to believe. While he can go an impressively long time without sleeping, he is not yet fully grown so it is not really good for him to do so, so I generally only allow it under dire circumstances. He knows this of course, but normally continues to argue the point more out of habit than anything else I think. Today, however, he does not bother to debate the need for it, no doubt understanding that I am giving him the opportunity to check on Faramir without him having to ask permission to do so. 

After he has left the fire to join Faramir in the tent, I pack my pipe again to give them some time alone to talk. The singing goes on a while longer, but eventually the leader of the rebel woodsmen, Fordwin, brings up the subject of how we might be able to help him and his folk to free their people who are being help captive in the village.

“Our enemies are not ordinary, though they appear to be men,” he tells me, “They have strength beyond the usual measure of men.”

“That is as I feared, Master Fordwin,” I reply, “We have reason to believe that these men have uncanny abilities.”

“But how so?”

“Dark items,” I explain. “the wizard Radagast the Brown has heard tales of it and asked the three of us to investigate.”

“Then you can help us?” is his simple question, one that I take my time to answer for there are many things to consider.

“I believe so,” I finally respond, “though we may have to go back for reinforcements. Your numbers are few, especially considering that ye have many among ye who are young and inexperienced while others are beyond their best fighting years.”

I look over at elderly Mistress Gerta and realize she is understanding most of what is being said, though she doesn’t seem to speak much Westron it seems. She speaks to her nephew in her own language and he translates her words to me.

“Auntie, says there is no time to wait. She says that the captives could help.”

I nod slowly, for I had been thinking the same thing. What we need is a way to get information to the folks who are being held so that we can stage both an uprising and an outside attack. If we could get weapons to the folks and set up some sort of signal with them, we could surprise the enemy by attacking from inside and out, much as we did in Minas Ithil. I believe if we were to do so we could cause enough confusion to take back the village from its captors even if they do have access to arcane objects. Even better would be if we could find where such dark items were located and either confiscate or hide them so that they can’t be used. Of course the only way to do any of these things would be to get someone inside. I explain this all to Fordwin who seems to agree.

“Your nephew fooled us with his disguise,” he tells me. “I believe even the enemy could even be convinced he belonged with them if he could speak their language.”

“He speaks it,” I say, wondering again how Faramir happened to be carrying such a disguise with him. I will have to remember to ask him when the time is right, but now is not that time. 

Fordwin and Gerta exchange amazed looks, and Gerta manages to say in Westron.

“But not alone.”

I am confused at this at first, but Fordwin explains for his aunt.

“She means he must take a companion. It is not safe for him to go into the village unaided, but I fear our own folk will be quickly recognized, even if they are disguised.”

 

I have to nod in agreement again, though I don’t like the implications of that. Clearly I am not going to be able to accompany Faramir into the village, for no amount of skin dye is going to convince anyone that I am a human. But to send my elfling into danger never sits well with me, even if he is the most obvious candidate for the job. Still we can hardly sit by knowing how the people on the inside are suffering, and it is better than sending Faramir in alone. Besides the main goal at first would be for the two of them to seek out information and give messages to the folks within. There should be no reason for them to have to fight until they have reinforcements in place.

“If there is enough of Faramir’s ‘magic’ disguise to go around, mayhap Legolas could accompany him,” I suggest. “if not we’ll have to think of something else for he’d stand out like a lit candle at midnight otherwise and I willna put him at such risk. But the two of them have worked well as a team before, and he has keen eyesight and hearing, besides being able to sense any dark items.”

“The men of the enemy wear beards,” Fordwin points out. “And it would not be safe for him to go in the guise of a boy, for the enemy are ruthless even with their own youngsters. He would be in danger of being... ill used.”

I feel the blood drain from my face at that terrible thought that anyone could treat their own young so brutally, and to think of my own lad being subjected to such atrocities…well it is unthinkable of course. 

“We’ll have to think of something else,” I tell them firmly, even though both Gerta and Fordwin look devastated by the news that our plan may not work. They talk amongst themselves briefly, Gerta speaking rapidly to her nephew.    
“I willna’ change my mind!” I tell them again, when they both turn to me. 

“Of course not,” Fordwin nods in agreement, but Auntie has another suggestion. 

“Say it!”

“Let the elf disguise himself as the other one’s wife. He will be left alone and not expected to speak if he is considered to be under the husbandly ownership of another man. With the correct clothing no one will question this. His face is pretty and smooth enough after all, and his long hair won’t come into question, for the men tend to crop their hair at the shoulders. It is the safest way.”

I smile at this and cringe as well, for I can well imagine Legolas’ reaction at such a description. Or his reaction at the whole idea, but it seems like the only viable way for things to happen, so I will have to make it clear to him that it is a non negotiable condition to his going with Faramir into the city. 

Together with Gerta and Fordwin we come up with a back story for a Hardrim traveler and his wife that will hopefully be convincing enough, though I warn them that I will not force either of my companions to go along with these plans.

“I will ask them,” is all I can promise before I turn toward the tent I am currently sharing with my friends.

As I thought might be the case, Legolas does not take the suggestion very well.

“I will not do it,” he declares, frowning at Faramir who is trying his best to hide a grin. 

 

“That is your decision of course, but make your mind up to it lad, that ye will not go in under any other guise.”

“But Gimli…”

“Nay, laddie, there is nothing to debate here. I willna’ allow ye to become a target to vile men, and it would defeat our purpose anyway. As a wife, ye willna’ be challenged as long as ye stick to Faramir’s side, which is another stipulation. The two of ye are to stay together and practice every caution. Ye are meant to be finding out information and getting messages to the captives, not challenging anyone or drawing attention to yourselves. That is if ye are willing to do so. As I said before, I will not force either of ye.”

Here Faramir comes to sit by Legolas and makes his views on the topic known. He gently jostles his shoulder. 

“Isn’t it what you wanted, Legolas? Why does it matter how you are disguised as long as it works and we accomplish our goal?” Faramir reasons. “I swear I will never tell anyone.”

Legolas is just beginning to look as if he might be considering the idea when Faramir can’t seem to resist adding.

“Especially not Eowyn. She might be jealous…”

Legolas growls and lunges forward, knocking Faramir off balance before putting him in a headlock and twisting his arm up behind him, though he is careful not to aggravate Faramir’s injuries. Still it is enough to cause Faramir to squeak in surprise and to change his tune quickly.

“Peace my friend, I was only teasing!” Faramir laughingly gives in. Mollified for the moment, Legolas releases Faramir who sits up and attempts to remove all traces of humor from his face. 

“Seriously Legolas, there is no one I would rather have at my side, and these people need help. Will you consider it at least?”

 

“Nay Faramir, it is not for either of us to coerce the lad,” I say. “Ye think about it over night, lamb, and give us your answer tomorrow. No one will think poorly of ye if ye feel ye canna do it. It is a serious matter and it deserves some serious thought. But do remember that the stipulations I’ve laid out are final and no amount of pleading will change my mind on the matter. Ye’ll either do it my way or not at all. Is that all plain?”

Though he does not look entirely happy about it, Legolas nods and answers affirmatively.

“It is plain.”

“Good! Now it is time and more that the two of ye settle in for the night for there is much to plan in the morning whatever ye decide.”


	6. Chapter 6

Legolas' POV

 

“It would go easier lord if ye would stand still” Gerta complains through one of the girls who is acting as interpreter. They are both smiling which sets my teeth on edge why am I the butt of everyone’s skewed sense of humor this morning?

And why she thinks I am going to stand still while she keeps sticking pins and needles into me I do not know. I only know it will do me no good to say anything not while Gimli is sitting perched on that barrel puffing on his pipe and with that look on his face that says clearer than words that I have only myself to blame for the circumstances I find myself in, the worst of it is, is that he is correct!

How I let them talk me into this ridiculous situation I do not know well I do know but it is another of those things I do not wish to acknowledge. They were so reasonable, so accommodating, telling me to think over it, and leaving the decision to me, what other decision could I come to, I cannot leave those innocent villagers to suffer some dreadful fate can I?

So, when we woke this morning I agreed to Gimli’s conditions, what else could I do, all I can do now is pray that they both keep their word and never tell anyone of this humiliation.

I will never be brought to admit it but the fact is that this is an excellent disguise, the voluminous robes, the headdress and the veil all serve to hide my features very well and will allow me to carry both my bow and my twin knives unseen. I give thanks to Eru that I chose to carry my Mirkwood bow with me when we set out to visit Rhosgobel, it is smaller and more easily hidden than the Lothlorien one and will allow me to go fully armed into the settlement, the all covering mantle means that I do not need to have my hair or face stained, merely my hands which I also give thanks for. I glance across at Faramir who has already colored his skin and hair, for his face even under the traditional headdress will be clearly visible. His outfit is far less outlandish and once again I open my mouth to comment only to close it again. Gimli has said if I make one more complaint then he will veto the whole thing and I know my dwarf well enough to know when he is in deadly earnest.

“Try walking about a little” Gerta’s interpreter orders

I step off only for Faramir to call me to a halt before I have barely begun, “you must take smaller steps Legolas, and keep your eyes lowered and your shoulders down. You cannot stride out as you normally do.”

I send him a look full of venom, but try to curtail the length of my stride I know he is correct if this disguise is to be effective I have to look and play the part but it galls me to admit it even to myself.

Faramir grins at my bad temper and chides, “Remember Hjiba, that as my wife you must not look directly at any other male we come across it is most unmaidenly.”

“I am not a maiden” I growl

“That anyone can see, at present” Gimli joins in the teasing, “If ye are not to be found out ye will have to try and cultivate a little humility and remember that Faramir here is your lord and master and that ye are subject to his will.”

“You are both enjoying this far too much” I complain and get only smiles in return, why did I ever agree to this foolish plan?

Gerta pats my shoulder, to gain my attention while the maid who is speaking for her interprets her words for my benefit, “Mistress Gerta thinks he is doing very well” she adds something else and Faramir who was just taking a swallow of water chokes.

“What did she say?” I demand to know, and then wish I had kept quiet as Faramir tells me that Gerta thinks I make a very pretty woman.

I close my eyes and wish for the ground to open up and swallow me as both Gimli and Faramir chortle at this remark.

Gerta seems unaware of the effect her comment although her eyes are dancing, she turns away from me, searching through a box that holds her sewing things, finding what she was looking for she hands me a small bangle.

“This belonged to her mother,” the girl says, “if you show it to any of those still held in the village, they will recognize it, it might help them to trust you.”

It might also lead them to try killing me I think for they may well believe I have taken it off the old lady by force or at least my so called husband has done so, but I do not say this and merely slip it over my wrist.

“Gerta is hoping her sister Vela may still be alive” she adds, “she is very like her,” she indicates her face, “she says you will not have difficulty in recognizing her if you should see her, and to tell her Gertalina sent it, she says her sister is the only one whoever called her by that name, and she will know that what you say is truth. Vela speaks some Westron lord so should be able to understand you more easily.” 

That at least is a relief for having to rely on someone interpreting is very wearing. Gerta looks up at me an expression of hope and fear on her old face and I am moved to try and reassure her.

“Tell Mistress Gerta, that should I see her sister I will make sure she knows that Gerta still lives and if there is any way we can bring relief to your people we will do so.”

Gerta nods approval of my promise, and manages to say in her broken Westron.  
“I know you will lord and I thank you for it” her trust in our ability to achieve this makes me ashamed of the fuss I have been making over my disguise.

If it means we can get in and out with the information we need and bring some hope to those held in the thrall of these evil men, then surely a little embarrassment is a small price to pay. I allow the women to finish working on my costume without complaint and in a short space of time I find myself following Faramir out of the camp, and making our way towards the village with the many words of warning from my beloved dwarf still ringing in my ears.

Faramir and I have agreed that it is best that we get into character from the start, just in case we are being observed, so I trail after him and the donkey Fordwin has given us to add weight to our story of being a Haradrim trader and his wife whose goods have been confiscated by the men of Gondor.

I can feel the tension growing within me as we draw closer to the stockaded village. I recognize the feeling as the one I felt when close to the arcane materials that were being stored in Minas Tirith. I clutch convulsively at my neck searching for the black pendant, then force my hands down again, concentrating on watching Faramir’s back and willing my mind to free itself from the call of those dark items that must be within the village. I wonder how the villagers who are being held prisoner are being affected by being in such close proximity to such evil, but perhaps they are less susceptible than I have proved to be.

“Hasakim” I mumble, Faramir turns reining in the donkey,

“What is it woman?”

I bristle at the tone but manage to reply meekly enough, “pardon lord, I am tired and would rest.” 

Faramir comes back to me, offering me a water skin and I whisper softly “we must be near for I can feel the pull of the dark materials it is growing ever stronger in my mind. There are powerful forces at work here.”

“Yes,” Faramir responds, “I feel it too, if the rumors are correct and the blue wizards are involved in what is going on we will need to be very careful indeed.”

I roll my eyes at this piece of speciousness but before I have an opportunity to reply more fully I hear the approach of what sounds to be several heavily armed men I hiss a warning but a moment later Faramir hears them too and we both realize our disguises are about to be put to the test. Beneath the voluminous folds of my robe my hand goes to my bow even as Faramir steps forward calling out.

“Our great lord be praised men of Harad grateful indeed am I to see my own kin.”

Six men come out at us from the trees, they are all dressed in similar attire to that which Faramir is wearing, scimitars hang from their belts; their dark swarthy faces are heavily marked with tattoos.

Even before they speak Faramir drops to his knees, and I hastily follow suit assuming the position I have seen Haradrim women do in the city.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” One of them demands

More than ever am I happy for those long years of tutoring that I suffered through in my childhood, for while I may only be able to speak very few words I can at least understand part of what is being said.

Faramir is hurriedly explaining our plight, complaining of the poor treatment we have been subjected to, when he mentions Aragorn’s name he even spits on the ground.

“Robbed we were, and all my goods taken from me, by the infidel dogs of Gondor, never again will I venture into this heathen country. I will go home and settle down with my wives and raise many sons to fight for the rightful lord of us all.”

This speech seems to find favor with the men, although they remain cautious and wary, and several moments go by while they question Faramir on where he has been and which tribe he belongs to. 

I watch and listen in awe at Faramir’s quick wit and easy manner, as he answers it is as if he does indeed hale from the east of Far Harad, and I wonder again at just what dangers he has seen and endured during his time as a spy for his homeland.

All I am required to do is keep my eyes downcast and to try not to fidget, after the most cursory of glances it is as if I do not exist at all I am certainly of no interest to these men less so than the donkey for as a woman I am of little value it is galling but I may very well be able to turn this to my advantage if we are allowed to enter the settlement for I suspect that as a female I am all but invisible and will be allowed to wander pretty much unnoticed. 

“What do you want with us?” the one who seems to be the leader demands.

“Just a few hours rest and a hot meal and maybe safe passage through this accursed wood”

“A meal you may have for our chief may wish to question you on what you saw and heard while in Gondor, but when you journey on you do so at your own risk we have things here that require our presence.”

That sounds ominous, but Faramir is already agreeing to speak with anyone and to be of much help as he can, “if anything I can tell you means that those accursed men of their White City come by their desserts I will die happy.”

“Come then the settlement we are occupying is not far and it will soon be time for our noon meal.”

With much thanks and bowing Faramir allows himself to be moved forward the donkey following him and me following the donkey.

The man who has done most of the questioning glances back and his gaze runs over my person making me shudder. My first instinct is to stare back but of course in this persona I cannot do so instead I drop my gaze and move closer to Faramir.

“I do not think much of your woman” the man sneers, “too tall and as ungainly as a cow.”

Faramir turns his eyes on me as well and then answers “She is not much to look at I agree but she has learned to keep silent and she keeps my bed warm at night on the road. My wives back at home are far more comely.”

The man laughs unpleasantly and mutters “Well all cats are grey in the dark they say and a man has needs.” I feel myself blushing and my face burns with anger and mortification.

Fortunately Faramir changes the topic of conversation “That he does, tell me how I should address the one who is your leader I would not wish to cause offence.”

“The name he has shared with us is Morinehtar, I admit to knowing little more than that, he hired us as guards when he chose to come west, after the great tower was destroyed by the army of that accursed whelp from the north. And has had us searching and digging in this part of the wood for weeks now, what he looking for he has not shared with us, but any stone or metal we find we are ordered to take straight to him. What he needs with them I neither know or care we are well enough paid, and the work has so far not been onerous for we get the men of the settlement we are using to do the heavy work. I would tell you one thing, our master is a powerful mage, and can read minds. He knows those who dissemble and is not kind to those who might cheat him as one of my men found to his cost, his body now lies in a grave nearby or at least what was left of it.” He laughs again, “But it may be that my master will be too busy to speak with you himself and leaves me to speak for him he often does.”

“Well friend I hope that is the case today” Faramir says fervently and I know there is more to his response than the man knows for we cannot afford to be in the presence of one who can read men’s hearts as this mage apparently can.

As we walk Faramir learns that the leader of the guards is called Hyarmendacil after one of their great kings he says, I wonder if he knows that the great king was in fact Gondorian and took power in Harad after defeating them Haradrim in battle. 

The settlement soon comes into sight; the cleared area about it makes a surprise attack very unlikely, even at night any attempting to cross the open ground would be easily seen. New walls made of wood, wood cut from my father’s forest make the enclave even more secure, guards stand at the gate and on the platform that runs around the inside of the wall. Within there is a main hall in the center and smaller dwellings, to the east another stockade originally for the animals has been reinforced and within the barred fence sit what look like the men of the village. 

There are a few children running about and some women who are working at an open fire pit none of them take much notice of our arrival or at least they appear not to, but I suspect that someone is making note and wondering what we are here for.

“Here” Hyarmendacil calls to one of the children, “take this donkey and give it food and water.” The boy hurries forward ducking to avoid the cuff about the head one of the guards gives him. 

I step forward but Faramir’s sharp “Hjiba” brings me back to my uncomfortable present reality once again I drop to my knees and bow my head to the earth. 

It is my ears that are set ringing by the clout about my head that I receive, as soon as Faramir demands I look up. “Mind your manners woman! Do you want to shame me before these fine men?”

I make a pretense of crying and beg his pardon. 

Hyarmendacil gives Faramir a smile of understanding, “too soft hearted like all of her kind, come Hasakim sit by the fire while I go and speak with Morinehtar.”

While he goes off to the building in the middle of the village I kneel beside Faramir who whispers he is sorry he had to hit me. I answer that it was my own fault and turn the conversation by saying that there are definitely arcane materials here.

“Very probably they are in the main hall where our friend Hyarmendacil is going. I could try and find my way in.”

“No you cannot” he responds immediately, “We are here to observe and to find a way to free these poor people if we can, remember what Gimli said.”

I would prefer not to remember it, but I admit that our priority is to help the villagers, I say nothing however for Hyarmendacil returns.

“My master is too busy to speak with you but he gives you permission to rest and to share a meal with us, before you go on your way.”

Faramir says all that is proper in return for this offer and as the other guards come to sit about the fire he takes his place amongst them I am about to join him when I realize that once again as a woman I am excluded indeed it seems my role is to serve food rather than eat it.

The village women bring platters and bowls handing them out to the men and filling them with a rich stew.

I sit back on my heels and use the time that the men take to eat to look about me. There are two guards outside the main hall and as I watch they are relieved of duty, and come to the fire to join the others it seems plain to me that they are very happy to be away from the hall, one of them muttering that what is going on inside is ‘unnatural’.

His companion nods agreement but warns not to let their lord hear him say so unless he wished to join the guard who died at the mage’s hands.

My eyes travel back to the hall, but then go beyond it to the gates we came through, they are strong but I suspect a determined dwarf could find a way through them with little trouble. 

As the meal ends the women return to collect the dishes and I decide that this might be an opportunity to try and speak with them so I pick up Faramir’s plates and follow them back to a trough of water where they are gathering to scrub the cooking pots.

They regard me with not so much antagonism as wary sympathy. I scan their faces for one who might resemble Gerta but see no one, but then there is a gasp and a woman grabs my arm and pushes the sleeve back revealing the bangle.

“Who are you and where did you get this?”

I suppose I could pretend not to understand her but since the whole point is to speak to the women I answer “Gerta gave it to me to show to her sister Vela.”  
The women exchange glances and mutter to themselves in their own language which I find hard to follow.

Then one of the younger women runs off to a house and returns bringing with her an elderly woman who is so like Gerta that she could be a twin. I give her the bangle adding that Gertalina sent it as proof to my being a friend.

“She lives?”

“She does as do many others who fled or escaped the village when the Haradrim first attacked you.”

“But you are Haradrim.”

I take a risk and let my veil fall and they gasp, one says “she is a boy” but another says “no he is not a boy or man, he is an elf I saw his kind many years ago and they are not servants of the enemy but the bitterest of their foes, how came you to be here master elf and in such a disguise?”

As the pot washing goes on around us I hurriedly explain who I am an who Faramir is, and what we are trying to do.

There is a general buzz of excitement but Vela calls the women to order, saying that they must continue as usual if they are not to alert the guards. 

“How can we help you Master elf?” 

“Is there any way into the village other than through the main gates?” I ask.

“Aye, a side door leads down to the stream where we do the washing and collect water, come I will show you.” 

Vela leads me across the settlement, as if showing me where to find our donkey, “there” she points, “behind that upturned wagon, there is usually only one guard on duty and he watches us from the gate when we go down to the stream, he knows we will not try and escape while they hold our menfolk and children hostage.”

A plan begins to form in my mind and I ask “do you go every day to the stream with the washing?”

Vela nods, “and do you carry it in willow baskets?” again she nods, “would you risk bringing weapons back hidden in the baskets so that your men could be armed when we attack?”

“Aye, anything is better than this virtual slavery and the guard does not take much notice of us older ones, if the young girls go with us he is too busy trying to catch their eye.”

“Excellent, take heart Vela, listen each morning for the sound of a rutting deer, when you hear it you will know that the weapons will be waiting for you at the stream and that the attack will take place that night. Can you get the weapons to your men?”

Vela looks determined, “we can and we will, they will be ready when the attack comes.”

“Good” it is my turn to nod, “but warn everyone that they are to steer well away from the main house, do not go in there under any circumstances.”

One of the guards shouts down from the wall for us to get back to work and I scurry after Vela back to the troughs where the other women are still washing dishes.

I hand the bangle to Vela and then making sure my veil is in place walk back to the fire where Faramir is still sitting talking to the guards. I walk as close as I can to the main hall hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious mage I do not do so but the noise and light emanating from it remind me forcibly of the ones I saw in the tower of Minas Morgul.

My perambulations also lead me to the compound where the men are being held, there are several there who I think will give a good account of themselves once they are armed.

I realize someone is shouting at me and look up to see a guard gesturing for me to move away I hurry passed him and make my way back to the fire pit, Faramir looks relieved to see me and gets to his feet thanking our host and promising to pass on messages from the other men to their families back in Harad if we pass through any of their villages all seems very congenial but I can see that Faramir is anxious to be away so collect our patient donkey and we make our way out of the main gates. Vela and some of the other women watch our departure and I see her smile and lift a hand in acknowledgement.

It is not until we are well away from the village before either of us speaks and even then we do not discuss what we have seen or found out merely agreeing to take a wide circular path back to where Gimli awaits us. We cross the stream twice and walk for some way along its flatbed so that if we are being followed our path will not be easy to discern. If I were on my own I would take to the canopy of the tree but even I would find it difficult to persuade the trees to allow a donkey to use their branches as a road way not to mention trying to get the animal up there in the first place! 

I cannot wait to get to the hidden camp and tell everyone what we have found out for it is plain that Faramir has important news to tell just as I have.


	7. Chapter 7

[Faramir POV] 

After the revelations of our information-gathering expedition, it is hard to be patient as we wend our indirect way back to camp, but after so many years as a ranger, it is rote. When we are far enough away from the occupied settlement but still well out of hearing of the camp, I stop Legolas with a gentle tap to his shoulder. 

He turns to face me, his blue eyes wide and questioning. 

"I am sorry again for hitting you," I say, reaching out to tip his chin so that the dappled sunlight falls on his face.  I wince when he see his split lip.  We don't have any women of Gondor amongst our spies, and those of Harad whom we've recruited are accustomed to their country's ways, but there are other unpleasant things I've had to do , pretending to be one of our Enemy's human servants. But even so, hitting a friend to maintain our cover story is not the type of choice I want to have to make again. I resolve again that I am done with playing the spy. I've very near lost my nerve for it. 

"Faramir," Legolas complains, pushing my hand away, "It was nothing. I wouldn't even have bit my lip if I hadn't been distracted." 

"Here," I say, fumbling though my belt pouch for a tube of healing salve. 

Legolas groans in annoyance. "For Eru's sake, I've gotten worse love taps sparring with human children." 

Despite my elven brother's half-hearted attempt to squirm away, I manage to dab some salve on his abused lip. Legolas rolls his eyes, but permits me to tilt his face to the light for another inspection before we resume our trip. 

It is well that I stopped Legolas when I did, for it seems that the young Woodsmen warriors Terric and Ernald were too impatient to wait for us to actually return to the camp.  Gimli had accompanied them, 'to keep them out of trouble,' or so he says. The relief and joy in his bright eyes when he sees Legolas and I, both whole and well, rather gives lie to that story, but neither of us call his bluff. 

Gimli's visage darkens at the sight of Legolas' split lip, but a slight shake of the head from Legolas and my apparent calm convince him to leave it be, for the moment at least. We are quickly led back to camp and plied with food and drink by the Woodsmen, who are eager to hear of what we have learned.  

I let Legolas begin, as he is practically brimming over with excitement, and because I am not sure how much of the dire news I learned that I should actually report to the group at large.  

"And then I took the opportunity to go and wash the plates so that I might speak with the female captives...." Legolas continues. 

Gimli frowns fiercely. "So the two of ye were separated? I thought I had told ye to stay together." 

"But, Elvellon," Legolas begins. 

"I think it was a good idea, Legolas." I say firmly. I had considered at the time calling "Hjiba," back, offering as an explanation that I did not want her separated from me, but Legolas had been doing an excellent job of maintaining in character with the exception of that one near slip, and it did seem like the best way for us both to gather more information.  

Gimli does not appear entirely satisfied, but he nods for Legolas to continue. I am sure he is quite sympathetic to the concern and anxiety of the Woodsmen, who desire to hear of the fate of their fellows. 

Legolas explains the connection he made with the female captives, and the well-conceived plan to smuggle weapons into the village as the women do the washing. 

"Well done, lamb!" Gimli says, clapping Legolas on the shoulder as Fordwin and Gerta beam. 

Gerta then asks Legolas about her sister, and a tumult of other questions come his way about who was alive. Legolas has an excellent memory for faces and names, but even he begins to become exhausted, perhaps at all the descriptions of visages he did not see still alive amongst the captives. Gimli calls a halt to that line of questioning. 

"Faramir, lad, what did ye learn?" 

I take a calming breath, and then begin my tale. I start with the apparent and routine, details about watch schedules, fortifications, supplies and personnel. Details that flesh out the picture Legolas has already painted, but without earthshaking revelations. 

My audience is raptly attentive, with one of Terric's older brothers providing a crude but fast-paced translation of everything I say for those who do not understand Westron well enough to follow. 

"Our enemies' leader Morinehtar sounds like he could be one of the Blue Wizards." I continue, "But that is not all - Hyarmendacil and his fellows say that their master has taken captive another like unto himself captive, a mage named Romestamo, whom he keeps close to him in a cage and daily bleeds and torments.:  

"The other Blue Wizard, do ye think, Faramir?" 

"He may well be, but...." 

"Whoever he is, we must rescue him!" Says Legolas passionately. 

"Only after we rescue our own people." Fordwin disagrees, although his expression betray his sympathy for anyone else suffering at the hand of these oppressors. 

I nod in agreement, and elaborate, "Hyarmendacil does not know very much about Morinehtar. Some of the other men had heard rumors that his power had not disappeared when Sauron fell, and that there was a power struggle between Morinehtar and his fellow. When they traveled here, Morinehtar's most trusted servants, who have powers of their own although not on the same level as their master, carried the other captive in a cage. Even Hyarmendacil has not met him."   

"Hyarmendacil and the others are well-paid by Morinehtar," I continue, "With gold which it seems was mined in Mordor...."

Gimli snorts. "An inferior metal, and on top of that the orcs are poor smiths. It has a film, looks filthy even when new." 

"But it spends as well as other coin, in Harad and Rhun and I have heard in Khand as well." I explain. "Morinehtar's power did not fade when Sauron's did, and he still seems to have access to coin which belonged to the Enemy. I know not whether he was in the service of Sauron yet did not tie his cause to the Enemy as closely as Saruman did, or whether his wealth and his power comes from some other source. Hyaramendacil and the other enemy warriors were retained by Morinehtar in Harad, though where he came from originally they do not know. It seems safe to assume that it was from somewhere in the enemy lands. Many of their princes and lords died or lost their fortunes in the war, so paid work is scarce for Hyaramendacil and his ilk. They are grateful for the work, and most seem to like the power that comes with it and the cruelty that is expected, although some of them are uneasy by some of Morinehtar's practices, though they were reluctant to speak of it." They spoke of it a bit more, but I am wary of offering a full description before I have consulted with my companions.     

"Of the men who were complaining, Faramir," Legolas asks pensively, "Do you think they might be willing to turn on Morinehtar and Hyarmendacil as Mubin did Haashim? It would be very useful to have an ally in the enemy camp. One who is free to move about, I mean."  

I shake my head. "I considered it, Legolas. But Haashim was only a man, however altered. Morinehtar is likely a wizard. And Mubin...had already showed personal courage in caring for us in the face of Haashim's threats. We know nothing more about these men other than that they are unsettled by whatever Morihetar is up to." Hyarmendacil and his ilk are far worse than most of those I've met in my journeys through enemy lands. Haashim was a cruel man, but he was disliked even by his own kin for that.  Most people of Harad are just men and women, not monsters. But Morinehtar, whoever he is, seems to have done a very good job of finding monsters in human form. I am more than a little unsettled, but doing my best to hide it.  

“How quickly can we get weapons together to smuggle in to the women?” I ask, effectively changing the topic. 

Gimli and Fordwin have apparently spent the day figuring out what weapons the Woodsmen have, and eagerly set to sorting out the question. Gerta gets involved when she decides that the weapons they plan to pass on at first are too large and bulky. I let them thrash that out for a while. I take Legolas hands and wash them in a shallow pan of water, mixed with a few drops from a vial in my pouch. The brown skin dye washes away, leaving my friend’s strong hands clean and pale again. 

When the issue of what weapons to pass on in the morrow has been settled, I call the attention of the group back to myself. 

“I think it would be best if we liberate the settlement as quickly as possible.” I say, “I did not like the mood amongst Morinehtar’s men.” Legolas appears a bit taken aback by my vehemence on this topic, but nods his agreement nonetheless. Gimli gives me an odd look. I think he must know me well enough to realize that there is more I am not saying, but he is supportive nonetheless, concurring and moving the topic to what supplies need to be gathered, after saying that more concrete planning can wait for tomorrow. 

As Gimli and Fordwin and the other elders talk, I feel rather like a puppet with its strings cut. Legolas, too seems lost and shaken by our journey today. I shift a bit closer to him and nudge his shoulder, as I remember Boromir would do with me when I was pensive. Legolas nudges me back and rolls his eyes a little, but at least he is smiling. 

Gerta kindly brings us food and wine. I would rather pass, still feeling sick from earlier, save that I know from years as a soldier that I should eat when I can. Legolas, who does seem to handle going without food better than a human warrior, looked ready to actually reject the offering, but either the disappointed look on Gerta's face or Gimli's pointed cough must have persuaded him otherwise.

I am torn between relief and upset at the news I still must impart as we bid our new friends good night and retire to our tent, with an agreement to return to our planning in the morning. 

"Well, lad?" Gimli asks quietly, "What was it that ye didna want to say in front of our Woodsmen friends?" 

Legolas turns to me as well, his head tilted inquisitively. 

I run an agitated hand through my hair, still darkened like a man of Harad. "The men who seemed unsettled, Legolas. I followed them, when they left the cooking fire, with the excuse that I needed to relieve myself. They went to speak with another man, who told them, as Hyarmendacil had said, to hold their peace. But they said more of what Morinehtar was planning, and...." 

I look up, feeling sick, "He is planning to sacrifice all of his captives, on the night of moon dark. To feed the gems that he has found which were worked and then left by Sauron. The blood magic will make them more powerful, powerful enough for him to recruit and army and take his own land. At the last, after all of the humans are dead, he will sacrifice his fellow mage." 

"Aule's balls!"  Legolas gasps. Instead of reprimanding his charge for language, Gimli swears in what I now recognize to be Khuzdul, although the words he uses are not any I learned from Lady Vonild or Aglarond's lore master!  

"Moon dark is in three days." Legolas whispers in horror, before turning to Gimli, "Elvellon, can we be ready, by then?" 

Gimli clears his throat. "Well, we'll just have to be."  Legolas does not look comforted. Gimli pats him on the arm, "Ai, lamb, dinna worry. We held Helm's Deep, marched on the Black Gate, and killed a fell beast. We can manage this." 

"I think I'd rather be facing the fell-beast again." Legolas mutters, but he does seem to have taken heart from Gimli's words, as in truth I have as well. 

"The fell-beast was better company than the Haradrim we met today, I must say." I add. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, my lads.” Gimli says, his voice kind and deep. He pats Legolas on the shoulder. “Will ye do me a favor, lamb, and fetch me my pipe?” 

“Of course, Elvellon.” Legolas says, going to Gimli’s pack, his hands occupied with a familiar task. 

“Ye both did verra well today,” Gimli praises as Legolas hands him the pipe and the flint, “but I disliked having to send ye. I’m sure it was a bitter task.” 

Legolas huffs as he hands Gimli the pipe weed. “Meeting Vela and the other women, and scheming with them, that was well enough. But the Haradrim who were serving Morinehtar….” Legolas curses briefly in Sindarin, before concluding, “It was all I could manage not to draw my knives and kill a few of them. I could have ended their lives quite quickly and soundlessly, and hidden the corpses so that no one would have even noticed until after we left the settlement.” 

“In retrospect, Legolas, I suppose I must thank you for your restraint.” I say, torn between amusement and relief. Our task would be made quite a bit harder if the Haradrim knew to be on their guard! But Legolas is no more than sixteen in the years of his people, and any adolescent would find it hard to watch the helpless being abused when he had the power to do something about it. 

“Speaking of restraint, lamb.” Gimli reprimands lightly, a spark from the flint illuminating his face and showing plain the love and concern in his eyes, “Who is it who bloodied yer lip?” 

“Ah, I am afraid that was me.” I confess, ashamed. Gimli’s surprised and appalled expression cuts me to the quick, although it is not quite as bad as the moment of the blow itself, and at least Legolas seems fine enough. “It seemed like Legolas was about to forget his restraint.” I explain, “I couldn’t think of anything else to do.” 

“I was.” Legolas admits, “I had in mind to cuff that man about the head, like he’d just tried to do to that little boy, and ask him how he liked it.” Legolas suddenly realizes whom he is speaking to, and winces. “I mean, Elvellon, that that is what I wanted to do, and I was thinking it over….” 

Gimli growls and swats at Legolas’ braids, muttering, “How many times, elfling, think before ye act.” Legolas murmurs a promise to be more careful next time. Gimli sighs, and looks back over to me, “Given the situation, Faramir, I dinna suppose ye had many good options. I’m glad that the two of you managed to keep your heads down and learn what we need to know to save these people and stop this foul being Morinehtar’s blasted plans from succeeding.” 

Relieved at being forgiven so easily, I nod in agreement. 

“Elvellon, the way that Morinehtar’s hired Haradrim bandits spoke to the women, and treated them, even me when they thought I was Faramir’s wife…it was truly reprehensible!” Legolas says, outraged, “At least the orcs have the excuse of having been bred to be monsters!” 

“Aye, lad.” Gimli murmurs, running a gentle hand over Legolas’ shining hair to calm him, “I am proud of ye for leaving them breathing. ‘Twould have been a hard thing for even me to do, I am sure.” 

I share Legolas’ outrage, and am glad that Gimli is giving him a sympathetic ear. My stomach turns as I again think of what I had to pretend to be today, what I had to do and say. Abusing my poor friend, and laughing at jokes about the captives which an honest man would have avenged with his sword. And cursing my own father’s name, while praising that of the Enemy, whom many of these men do not even believe is gone. I am glad to know that he is, but now this lot must be dealt with as well. 

“I felt much the same about the slavers who held the two of ye hostage in Minas Morgul.” Gimli continues, “I had to pretend that my mind was like unto theirs in order to buy ye both and get ye safely away, but I didna’ truly rest easy until we’d returned, freed all of the hostages, and dealt with all of the filthy slavers.”

I turn and give Gimli a considering look. I had forgotten about that. 

“You did very well, then, Gimli.” I say, “I was surprised at how well, in fact.” 

“It did nae sit easy.” Gimli replies, “As I know today did not with either of ye. But we warriors do what is necessary, and we’ll pay this lot back, with interest. And soon, as well.” 

“How do you think it would be best to approach the settlement, and when?” I ask Gimli, hoping to gain refuge from my guilt and unease in planning and preparation. 

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow, Faramir.” He says firmly. “Fordwin’s men are good to hold the watch, I drilled with them today. We should take advantage of a full night’s sleep. We’ll need it, if we’re to take back the settlement, rescue the Woodsmen and a captive wizard, and put paid to the plans of an evil one.” 

Gimli speaks wisdom. A soldier not only eats when he can, he sleeps when he can. One of the first things I learned, as a young officer in Ithilien. But I cannot rest tonight, not yet. The memory of the things I had to do and say, and older memories of other things I have seen and not been able to stop, weigh on me too heavily. 

“I need to wash.” I say quietly, fingering a still-black lock of hair. It is true, and it also gives me an excuse to leave, and return to rest only after I have quieted my mind. 

The rushing of the creek and the familiar routine of cleansing the dye from my skin and hair is soothing. It is how I have often shed the skin of Faran the merchant, or much more rarely other characters, and moved back to my real life. There is something to be said for ritual, after all. After I am clean and returned to my normal appearance, I sit beside the water for awhile longer, letting my thoughts float freely. I do not know how long I have been there, but evidently it is long enough that the fires have died down, as I only barely manage to avoid the path of Terric and a female companion who have escaped the confines of the camp for a different kind of comfort. I shake my head in amusement at their antics, thinking fondly of Eowyn and then Elboorn, and how grateful I am that they do not live in Harad. 

I take care to be very quiet as I return to the tent, but I need not have bothered. Gimli and Legolas are still awake, Gimli telling Legolas some sort of tale involving a brave dwarf and an angry cave troll. 

Legolas’ amusement fades into a mix of irritation and concern as he glances over at my entrance. “We were just about to go looking for you, Faramir.” 

“I am sorry.” I apologize, through a sudden stab of guilt mixed with warmth and affection at them having cared enough to consider doing so. 

“Dinna worry about it, lad. Sit down and hear the end of my tale, and then we’ll all sleep better for knowing that Prince Fror once again slays the cave troll.” Gimli says briskly. 

“If he even really slayed it the first time…..” Legolas teases under his breath. 

“Hush, ye daft elfling.” Gimli says in mock-anger. The familiar teasing and Gimli’s story-teller’s voice lull me to sleep. I don’t wake until the morning birds start singing. Legolas doesn’t either, much to his disgust. Not much has occurred without us, and we are soon busied with putting the Woodsmen – and a few of the younger woodswomen – through their paces with swords, spears, axes, and arrows. 

Around mid-morning, Gimli, Legolas, and I pull Fordwin and Gerta aside, and explain the full horror of the situation. They handle it well, Gerta’s hand merely seeking her nephew’s for comfort. They decide to tell their people at the campfire at luncheon. We return to preparing plans for the assault, cheered to hear that the initial exchange of weapons with the captive women in the village has gone off without a hitch. 

That mood dampens as Gerta and Fordwin relate the true stakes of our three day time table to their fellows. It does leave the Woodsmen even more resolved than we to set to our tasks. I worry that it will lead some of them to lose their heads and behave prematurely or rashly. I keep a particularly close eye on Terric, which may be unfair, but I think I have reason. 

 

The time moves quickly. We are not as ready as I would like to be, but there is no question that we cannot let Morinehtar’s plans for this night come to pass. At dusk on the third day, I find myself just under the tree line nearest the front gate with a quarter of the woodsmen, waiting for the signal from Gimli. Legolas and Gimli lead those who will go to the side door just after the signal is given, in hopes that one of the women can let them in, or that it will be easier to break down. Gimli has made a small battering ram for just that purpose, which is carried by some of the huskiest of the woodsmen. Fordwin and his oldest son lead two other groups approaching from the other sides of the settlement, with hooks and ropes for scaling the walls. We have the same, but with a fair deal of luck, the gates will open before we have used them.


	8. Chapter 8

Xxx  
Gimli's POV

Three days is very little time to prepare a handful of woodsman to invade and overtake a village, especially with the inferior weapons we have at our disposal. These folks are not warriors and among them we have found only three swords, two axes, though not the sort designed for war, a pick axe, a hoe and two hunting bows. But nearly every boy and man carries a slingshot and a small knife and the women often carry knives as well. Besides that we have a few kitchen knives and sharpened cooking forks. Other than that, I have had to improvise to come up with weapons to send into the villagers on the inside.

 

To that end I spent my time while the lads were spying out the village instructing the people to take down tents and sharpen one end of the metal tent poles to make effective spears. Sharpened stones attached to wooden shafts make passable weapons as well, as do hollow bamboo reeds loaded with poisoned darts. Blow darts they are called, soaked in a strong poison made from the cooked down venom of several poisonous snakes. 

Since Faramir and Legolas returned we have had to speed up our efforts to produce weapons and train our rag tag team of makeshift soldiers in the ways of combat. I feel the time limit pressing down on us, but these men have heart and motivation, so that means a great deal. I am honored in their faith in us, and in the fact that Legolas and Faramir trust my ability to direct the raid, but I can only hope I am not leading them all to the slaughter. 

We have trained and practiced until we are exhausted from the effort, but this morning, the day of the attack the men seem calm and determined and anxious to begin. But first we have to discuss a plan of attack.

With the men gathered around me, listening intently, I draw a sketch of the lay out of the village using a stick in the dust.

“There are four watchtowers,” I say, “but we only need to concern ourselves about two of them-the ones facing the entrances we plan to breech. Did ye notice how many guards stood in the towers when ye were inside lads?”

“Always two in each,” Legolas tells me, “at least while we were there. They may increase or decrease the guard depending on the time of day.” 

“And they are constantly guarded,” Faramir points out, “and the large expanse of land between the trees and the village means we will not be able to take them by surprise even at night unless we take out the guards.”

“Exactly my thought, Faramir,” I concur, “The guards will have to be dispatched before they have time to raise the alarm. Also we will need to attack midwatch to avoid running into more guards during the watch change. Normally guard changes happen at dusk, so I propose we wait one hour beyond. We will get as close to the watchtowers as we can while remaining behind the tree line and then on my signal two archers will quickly take down the two guards at each tower at the same time. It will take good timing and good communication, but with some luck I believe it can be done.” 

It is obvious who the archers should be for only Faramir and Legolas are trained to use a bow in combat. I do not doubt either of their abilities to do so, but I do have one concern.

“Faramir, lad, will ye be able to make that shot in the dark?” I ask him. I know that men do not have the night vision that elves and dwarves have, but Faramir seems confident.

“The sky is clear and the moon is full and the guards wear shiny metal helms, so I should be able to see them quite well.”

I nod, and then continue to explain our plan of attack. We will divide into groups, one to enter from the front as noisily as possible and one to quietly enter from the back. The diversion group will carry covered lanterns and something to make a great racket so that when the signal is given they can uncover their lanterns and startle the enemy with the sudden noise and light. Hopefully the confusion will send them into a panic, while the other group and the villagers from inside, who have already been supplied with weapons attack from the back. 

There are many things that can go wrong, for we have no way of communicating with the allies inside. I can only pray that they have not already been discovered hiding arms by their captors, for without the villagers from the inside we are woefully outnumbered! 

But it will not do to show doubts now for there is no going back. One way or another there will be an ending tonight. I dismiss the men, exhorting them to continue with their practice until mid day. After that it is better to rest and rejuvenate for the main event. In the meantime, I call Faramir and Legolas aside, for I wish to speak to them both privately. I know them both well and I understand their fears and concerns. I want to address those things now so there will be no need for debate or argument in the heat of battle.

We make our way back to the tent, that has now been robbed of its metal poles and is being held up by tall bamboo canes instead. Once inside I gesture for them to sit down, while I search out my pipe. When I look up from lighting it, I see they are both looking at me expectantly.

“I wanted to iron out a couple of things now while we still have time,” I say, “I dinna want either of ye having to make too many on the spot decisions, so I seek your agreement now.”

I see them exchange looks, no doubt wondering what strictures I intend to lay on them. I do not leave them long in the dark.

“Two things,” I say. “First of all there are dark items inside. We do not know exactly what they are or where they are kept, but ye must be on guard at all times. Do not touch them with bare skin if ye can help it and instruct the men to do the same. As ye know they are to be treated with all caution.”

“Aye of course,” Faramir agrees immediately, but I can see the concern in Legolas’ face, which is the actual reason for this meeting. I know he still suffers guilt from his involvement with such arcane material before. I feel the need to reassure him ahead of time.

“Remember, lamb, that ye were able to mostly fend off the machinations of such things for months of extremely close contact. Ye needn’t unduly fear being overtaken again. Ye are strong and determined and highly motivated not to succumb. Practice caution, by all means, but do not doubt your ability to resist such darkness. Ye’ve proven it already, so ye needn’t worry over that.”

He only nods, but I believe I have probably addressed a real fear for he looks both grateful and relieved. I reach out briefly to squeeze his shoulder before continuing.

“Secondly I wanted to discuss our enemy,” I say, “It is my belief that in this case we must not offer mercy as we did in Minas Ithil. Dark items are heavily influencing these men, so they are more dangerous than ordinary men would be. Think of Haashim with his sword hilt. We will not be taking prisoners or offering them clemency. We will dispatch them as mercifully as possible, but that is all the concession we must allow.” 

I can see Faramir is about to object, so I hold up a hand to stay his protest.

“I know ye find it difficult Faramir lad, but I believe it is the only safe way to proceed. These men have purposefully sought out evil objects to empower themselves and we cannot afford to be forgiving.”

 

“We could subdue them with poisoned darts if we were to dilute some of the poison, only for those who surrender,” Faramir suggests, but I am not persuaded.

“It is too risky to entertain. I do not enjoy ruthlessly killing either, but these men have already chosen their path.”

“He is right, Faramir,” Legolas agrees, “Prisoners influenced by darkness could never be trusted and would only be a hindrance and a danger to our mission. None of us may like it, but they must be destroyed without concession. They’ve made their choice.”

 

I nod to Legolas, thankful for his support, and then press Faramir to agree, “It is the only way it can be done. Promise me, laddie. No foolhardy attempts to rehabilitate these men.”

Faramir nods, if reluctantly. 

“I trust your wisdom in this matter. I promise.” 

 

“Good lads,” I say, reaching out to pat them each on the cheek. “Now we would do well to prepare for the evening. It will not do for ye to run out of steam mid battle, so eat lightly and then rest for a few hours if ye can. And don’t forget we have been through worse and lived to tell the tale and let that give ye courage.”

At first dark we gather with the woodsmen and go over our plans one final time, then we split into two groups. I am not inclined to be overly sentimental in front of the men, but I do take a moment to grasp Faramir’s hand before he leads his group to their place in the tree line. He pauses in his task of tightening his bracer to look me in the eye. In that glance I try to convey the message that he should take care, to think before acting and to remain alive at all costs. I do not know if he receives all of that or not, but when he smiles and squeezes my hand in return, I feel that perhaps he has understood. 

I lead my own group a little further down where my lad can get a good shot at the northernmost watchtower guards and where we have the closest proximity to the side door. I look over the men to see that they are all armed and ready, and then out of long habit glance over at my elfling. I see that he is also looking at the makeshift soldiers that make up our small battalion and he looks less than convinced that they are prepared for what lies ahead. Automatically I do what I have ever done in the moments before a battle when I see that Legolas is fidgeting or nervous. Grasping him by the upper arm I pull him down so that I can whisper in his ear.

“It is too late to worry over anything now lamb, so all ye need to do is center your mind on the task at hand. So stand still, take a deep breath and focus. Good lad!”

He nods at this, closes his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. After that I see the men following the same method making them look much more like a proper army. Now all there is to do is wait until it is time for the signal. 

 

When I feel we have waited long enough for the Haradrim to have changed the guard, I begin to watch to tower guards and Legolas nocks his bow and focuses his eyes. When both guards are standing close together, Legolas’ eyes flit toward me letting me know that the timing is right on his side. I can’t see the guards in the further away tower, but we have arranged another signal where one of the men on Faramir’s command raises his spear high to signal that Faramir is ready as well.

As soon as I see it, I whisper, “ready lad?”

The smallest nod from my elfling answers the question, so I call out the agreed upon signal to fire, the sound of a herring gull. 

I watch as Legolas releases first one arrow, followed so rapidly by the other that they are traveling almost side by side. They hit their marks in remarkable execution only a split second apart and I see the guards go down. From here I cannot see if Faramir has had the same success, but when I look up to see his small brigade advancing across the open space I know he has, otherwise he would still be firing. 

Legolas and I make it to the side door with the men, the largest of whom are carrying a home made battering ram. We wait until Faramir’s men begin making a racket to draw attention to themselves before we force our way through the side gate. 

Once inside, there are of course guards to contend with. I hope they will be easily dispatched, but am unpleasantly surprised when it takes four men together to subdue just one of the guards. It is then that I know that our fears have been confirmed and that dark items are in use! These men are unnaturally strong. I call out to the woodsmen that they should attempt to remove any unusual jewelry or weapons worn by the Haradrim if they possibly can, but that they should do their best to avoid touching, for I do not know how they will react when coming in contact with these arcane materials. 

Suddenly we are swarmed by Haradrim and the only thing I can concentrate on is taking them down as rapidly as possible, my heavy axe crushing skulls and severing heads for anything less drastic may leave these men able to gather power from the items they carry and regain strength to continue fighting. I can see that our human allies are doing well, though they are having to gang up two or three at a time against one Haradrim fighter, so it is well that we are not yet outnumbered. 

For a moment I lose sight of my elfling, but there is no time to look about. I fear for him for at close range he is fighting with a pair of knives. Knives normally wielded in a deadly manner, but the unnatural strength of the men makes me fear that a stab wound may not be enough to dispatch them. But evidently Legolas has thought of that too.

When next I see him my heart leaps into my throat for he is drenched in so much blood that I fear he has suffered from a terrible wound. He is still fighting well, but I know from experience that it would take more than a grievous wound to bring the lad down when his adrenaline is up and he is focused on a task. But then I catch sight of him and realize that the blood covering him is most likely not his own, for he is killing the humans by stabbing and yanking down to tear open the wound, no doubt having seen how difficult the enemy are to kill. It’s a messy ordeal, but effective. He also collects any dark items, mostly in the form of rocks or bits of metal hung by a string over the wearers neck, from the corpses before moving on likely to prevent them being picked up again by others of the enemy and increasing their power. It is a risky move in my opinion, which I make clear by snatching them away from him as soon as I can manage to get within reach. Careful to touch them only with my gauntlet, I fling them into a nearby cistern and then take a split second to glare at my elfling and see him shrug in response before I am fully engaged again. 

It doesn’t take long before we run out of Haradrim to fight though, since the majority of them are running toward the village center, no doubt having heard about the ruckus at the front gate. I am happy to see that all of the men are still standing, though Fordwin’s young son is wearing a knife slash across his neck. It doesn’t look to be deep, but of course there is no time to find out. 

When we arrive to the village center it is to find that the Haradrim who haven’t been killed are engaged in battle with our second group, though a large cluster of guards surrounding a strange looking being. He has dark skin and a white beard, neatly trimmed and if it weren’t for his eyes he would look very much like an elderly Haradrim man. His black eyes seem to glow like the embers of a fire and any of our men who get near him are immediately propelled backwards as if being shoved by an invisible hand. Obviously he is using a shield spell to protect himself as he makes his way toward a large stone altar. 

I know a wizard when I see one.

Immediately my eyes seek out Faramir who is fighting fiercely but obviously working his way toward the large pen that holds the villagers. Several of the wizard’s guards are sent forward to prevent him, and Faramir, seeing this, runs full out toward the locked gate. Three guards take him to the ground, and I sprint toward him. Legolas is there first, stabs one guard through the temple and yanks another to his feet, but his blow is blocked and they are soon engaged. It is enough for Faramir to get to his feet, shake off the third guard, run his sword through his gut and make it to the gate. Just as he does so, another guard, bigger than the others grabs Faramir around the throat with one large hand, lifting him off the ground. The guard pulls a scimitar from his belt and aims to run it through the lad, when, I instinctively I toss my throwing axe, severing the guard’s arm and causing him to drop screaming to his knees. Faramir falls to the ground, yanks the now unattached hand from his throat and finally opens the gate.

It is then that I feel the tides have turned, for the village men and women pour through the gate, armed, furious and fighting tooth and nail for their freedom. The battle will soon be over!

But then I hear the screeches of a young woman who is being dragged over to the wizard who has laid his staff upon the altar and holds a dagger ready to offer her as a sacrifice it seems. At the last moment she knees the guard in the crotch causing him to lose his grip and her to be snatched back by a man who could easily be her father. He tosses her behind his back and shoves the guard forward. 

It doesn’t seem to matter one way or another to the wizard. He quickly lifts the man above the altar as if he weighs no more than a rabbit and runs a dagger through his heart, spilling blood over the altar and the staff.

There is a sound as of thunder and a great explosion and then blood red smoke rises high into the sky. I can feel sudden a heaviness in the air, the weight of pure evil pressing down and when the smoke clears, I can see the staff is glowing white. As the wizard picks it up the glow seems to surround him as well, and he turns directly toward my companions and me and smiles.


	9. Chapter 9

Legolas POV

Gimli’s axe severs the man’s arm and I am able to dispatch the Haradrim I am fighting, I follow Faramir and together we haul the gates open and the men rush out bringing with them the makeshift weapons the women must have smuggled to them earlier.  
With them on our side I am hopeful the tide will turn, but then I hear a woman’s scream and as I turn see that we have a new problem for coming across the compound are a group of guards and a poor young woman and in their midst is a man who can only be a wizard. 

He has dark skin and a white beard; it is his eyes that capture my attention though, even amongst all this fighting that is going on about me. His eyes glow with an unnatural light, which makes my skin crawl.   
As the men try to rush him it is clear he is making use of a spell of shielding, something we cannot break without help.  
And that help will have to come from his fellow wizard, so I race across the compound toward the now unguarded house, I enter it at a dead run, rolling and rising with my bow already nocked but there is no one here save for a man in a large iron cage. He is in a poor state but he rises from his knees and points at the pentangle drawn on the floor. In each point, there is a piece of black and gold-flecked stone that I recognize all too well.

“Stay back” he calls “It is dangerous to step within the markings on the floor.”

That I know I can feel the pull of the dark materials already worming its insidious way into my mind. I cast about for ways to approach him without stepping within the pentangle but from outside there is a sudden loud crash like thunder, the wizards head comes up sharply and I see the concern in his face. This is no time for hesitation and the wizard must know this for he calls out “hurry.”

I force myself to ignore the call of the stones, concentrating instead on looking about for something to break open the cage door. There are several weapons and I choose a scimitar that has a strong blade leap across the supernatural barrier and bring the sword down hard on the lock, the vibrations run all the way up my arm but the lock is cracked and with a sharp tug it splinters and the door opens. Romestamo staggers out but once past the symbol etched floor seems to recover his strength very quickly. It is as if the stones have been draining his powers, which from my own small experience is easily done and he has been held prisoner for some considerable time.

I help him towards the door, but he turns back and picks up his staff before stepping outside with me. Men are still fighting but the main focus of everyone’s attention is where a stone altar has been set up, Morinehtar stands there his hands are covered in blood, the body of one of his guards lays beside him. A pall of blood red smoke rises in a huge column into the sky.  
As we move forward the wizard raises his staff looks straight at us and begins to chant. I have heard the language before it is the Black speech and I know its power, around us men and women are falling to the ground clutching their ears and crying out in terror. Gimli and Faramir are still standing but I can see the strain in both their faces as they attempt to remain on their feet. I know it is useless but I seek to distract Morinehtar by firing in his direction, he merely laughs but his face darkens as he sees his erstwhile brother.

Romestamo steps forward raising his own staff, pointing it at Morinehtar he too begins to chant and I recognize his words as well, but this is a song of power such as I once heard Mithrandir use when he was summoning all of his forces to him. Around us the air seems to shift, clouds swirl above our heads and the light from the two staffs intensify. The two maiar are soon fully engaged with each other, and the rest of us appear to have been forgotten. Gimli signals to the men of the village to withdraw as quickly as possible and they do not need a second invitation; they are helping everyone to the gates, young and old, injured and hale. Someone has had the sense to release the animals and they too are seeking to escape from the ongoing battle. In fact, every bird and beast is joining the exodus even the rats.

Faramir, Gimli and I form the rearguard along with Fordwin and his sons, but as we reach the shattered gates, Gimli halts although he waves the rest of us onwards.

“I will stay to see what the outcome of this battle will be,” he tells Faramir and me. “The pair of ye get everyone else to the woods and as far from here as ye can. I will follow later.”  
Over Gimli’s head Faramir and I exchange glances and turn back to stand shoulder to shoulder with my dwarf.”  
“I told ye to go along” he blusters but neither of us take any notice, if Gimli is staying then so are we. We give him our best Thranduilion and Elrondion down the nose stares.

Obviously deciding that it is useless to argue Gimli growls that when he says we are to run, then we run. We both nod and creep back to the compound where the blue wizards are still battling with each other.  
The noise is incredible they are both chanting loudly and the wind howls and whips up their robes and hair it is as if they stand in the center of a vortex. All three of us cover our ears to protect them but our eyes never leave the battle.  
All kinds of detritus has been caught up in the maelstrom and is spinning about them, the sky above their heads is black, lightning bolts fly back and forth, and there is a smell of sulphur and sparks of fire flare in the darkness. It is a terrifying sight.

I had feared Romestamo’s captivity would have weakened his powers but he appears to be holding his own. The two staffs are glowing blue now, as if we are coming to the crisis point. As the wizards draw closer so the air grows still more disturbed. Dust is sucked up into the whirlwind making it more difficult to observe what is happening. There is another crack of thunder, louder even than the first one, a great cry goes up from Morinehtar and is answered by Romestamo. Then before my appalled gaze the two staffs touch, the wizard’s hröa seems to dissolve swirling up through the funnel of air specks of blue, black, red and gold like small birds and then they are gone and all is still. 

I use my bow as a prop feeling as if I have been in a battle all of my own, which of course I have. I am not alone however in feeling exhausted for Gimli is leaning heavily on his axe, while Faramir is bent over hands on knees as he attempts to get himself in hand.

“Now that was an eye opener and no mistake” Gimli attempts to raise a smile by using one of Sam Gamgee’s favorite sayings. 

My laugh when it comes is a rather shaky one, for I have witnessed something quite terrifying and I am still feeling a little unsteady. Gimli grips my shoulder and lets some of his massive strength flow into me with his other hand he rubs Faramir’s back.

“Are either of ye hurt?”

“No, I have no injuries” I reply and Faramir answers as well saying he is unharmed. 

 

“I cannot believe what we have just seen,” he adds, “they just disappeared into thin air.”

“Not quite thin air” I tell him, “as their hröa dissolved I am almost certain I saw two birds soar high into the sky one blue one red, gold and black. They flew off one after the other into the east.”

“Good riddance if that is the case “Gimli growls, now doing his usual physical check by running his hands along my body. He obviously does not take me at my word. I roll my eyes at Faramir and he laughs and shrugs as Gimli repeats his checks on him.

“But how could they do such a thing?” Faramir goes back to the original conversation about the disappearance of the wizards.

“They may be shape shifters, Radagast is said to be able to do such things, why shouldn’t they?”

“I dinna care as long as they are gone from here” Gimli is it seems uninterested in discussing these possibilities. “We had best check the bodies of the dead, and mind ye do not touch any of the stones with your hands, put anything ye find into yon cistern. We will decide how best to deal with them later.”

“The bodies will need to be burned”

“Aye and I suggest that the house that held the wizard best be cleansed by fire as well. We will put the bodies in there.”

“But before we do that I think we need to search the building there are dark materials there for I have seen and felt them but there may also be books or documents that might help us understand more fully what was going on here.”

“Or be of use to those in Minas Tirith trying to ascertain the origins of these arcane artefacts.” Faramir puts in.

“Then let us make haste.” Gimli shoulders his axe and makes for the middle of the village as he does so I spy Fordwin and some of the elders of the village returning carrying lanterns. 

“We saw the spiral of smoke high in the air, and wondered how you fared, Gerta sent us to find out.” Fordwin calls out.

“We are well enough,” Gimli waves them into the compound, “and the wizards are gone. I am glad you are here though Fordwin for there is work to do, the bodies need disposing of and I am thinking that the main house where so much wickedness took place might be the place to …”

Before Gimli can finish Fordwin is nodding agreement “None of us will ever want to enter that place again Master Gimli, use it as a pyre and let all the wicked men and the place they used be consigned to the flames.” He calls to the men who are checking the bodies to begin dragging them to the main hall.  
Gimli and I go into the house and begin our search, Faramir soon joins us, he is looking pale but he accounts for it by saying he has been collecting the arcane materials and dropping them into the cistern. Gimli fusses over him for a minute or two then decides he is well enough. Together we search the house, we find more pieces of stone, some much larger and Gimli forbids us from picking them up, he goes off to the smithy. 

While he is gone, I turn to Faramir, “Are you sure you are alright?”

He nods, and begins to search through a box, but I am unconvinced, “Faramir what is amiss?”

This time he answers truthfully, “I was helping bring in some of the bodies and I realized that I had sat beside the man I was dragging in at the fire a few days ago and shared food with him and now he was dead. I may even have been the one to kill him.”

“You know they had to be killed.”

“Yes, I understand that but it seems so sad, such a waste of a life, here was a man who was like me once, he may even have had a wife and children.”

“He made his own choices, Faramir just as we all do. He chose one path we have chosen another and I think a better one. We have saved many lives tonight and by destroying the dark artefacts we may save many more.”

Faramir gives me a smile, “You are right of course, whenever did you become so wise I wonder?”

I laugh, “Well I have had over eight hundred years to work on it.”

“And he still hasn’a got it right” Gimli growls from the doorway, he comes forward and puts a hand on Faramir’s arm. “But for once the elf is right, we canna save everyone lad, we can only do the best we can with the time given to us. Now, let us get this finished shall we.” He produces some long handled tongs he found in the smithy and begins to pick up the pieces of rock.

Faramir and I continue our search of the house collecting books and parchments and placing them in a trunk Gimli has found. When he is satisfied that we have all that might be of interest to Aragorn the men begin to bring in the bodies piling them up in the center of the hall, we all retreat and then throw several brands of fire into the building. It is soon well ablaze, flames lick at the walls and roof and I notice that they are initially colored red and black but as the fire takes hold the flames revert to normal colors I hope that means that, the fire has indeed cleansed the evil that used to inhabit this place.  
Fordwin and the others go off to search the other houses and buildings, it is almost full dark now but the flames from the hall light our way easily enough.  
Gimli, Faramir and I take a moment to wash our faces and check our weaponry as we do this reassuringly familiar task we talk over what we should do next.

“We canna hope to carry all of the dark materials we have found here with us” Gimli states, “So we must find a safe place to store it. That cistern will do for now but we canna leave the stones here when the villagers return.”

“Fordwin says the men who were used to dig the pits looking for the stones; will fill them in and then see that the villagers stay well away from them.”

“Aye well that is good, and I think having seen what happened here today few folk will want to go poking about looking for any more of the bedamned things. But, we still have to find somewhere secure for the stuff we have collected.”

My eyes wander over the village and I spot something that might be the answer to our problems. “There is a fouled well over there, the women said they would no longer use it as the Haradrim had used it to dispose of their waste. We could lower the dark materials down there in buckets, and then seal the opening until someone comes out from Gondor to collect them.”

 

“It might do” Gimli agrees, “Mind we will have to inspect it, and that might be better done in daylight, for now I think we can leave Fordwin to supervise here and take ourselves back to the camp, I am hungry and some here are in dire need of a bath and clean clothes.  
Faramir and I do not dispute this I will be very happy to clean the dried blood and filth from my body.

The camp is full to overflowing what had been our tent has been taken over by women and children and who are we to object still Gerta offers us her apologies saying our packs are now in her own tent. Frankly, I do not care where they are as long as I can go off to the stream with a bundle of clean clothing and can scrub away all of the dirt and debris.  
The water is cold the hour is late and I am feeling increasingly exhausted yet there is a certain sense of satisfaction as I watch the reunions of family and the rejoicing of freedom for all concerned.  
By the time the three of us have bathed and dressed the moon is waning and morning is not far away, Gerta provides us with a bowl of stew that is very welcome and helps to warm our bellies which if mine is anything to go by are cold and empty. Many of the men and women who were held in the village come to acknowledge their thanks for their freedom and it would be churlish to send them away although all I want is to find my bed roll and sleep but eventually the three of us are alone.

“Ye have done well,” Gimli tells Faramir and me as we make our preparations for bed. I note he has put our bedrolls on either side of him so he can no doubt keep an eye on the both of us. We are both kneeling making up the beds so we turn to him smiling our thanks and receive a sound box on the ear for our trouble, as he threatens, “but if ye ever ignore my orders again I will make sure ye regret it. Now get ye to bed before I take my frustration and anger out on your very deserving hides.”

The pair of us each nursing a stinging ear sink into our bedding, a sore ear is a small price to pay for what we have achieved and well we know it.  
As Gimli draws the covers over us both I murmur, “thank you Elvellon, we are happy you are well also.”

I do not hear Gimli’s response for I step almost immediately onto the path of dreams, tomorrow is soon enough to worry about what we will need to do next.

 

And tomorrow comes all too swiftly, I wake with a start to the sound of children laughing, how easily mortal kind seem to recover and perhaps it is as well that they do for their lot is not a happy one and their lives are short.

Gimli and Faramir are wakening and Gerta brings more food, which we eat quickly for we wish to return to the village and dispose of the rocks.

Faramir regales our return with his theory on what the rock pieces may have once been, whether he has lain awake thinking about it I am not certain but he is suggesting that perhaps the rocks are in fact parts of one larger globe.

“You have both seen the Palenteri the seeing stones, what if this was Sauron’s equivalent. It might even have once been the Ithil-stone and he turned it to the dark side. I know the stone was kept in Minas Ithil which was captured by the Nazgûl in III 2002 and Sauron made use of a Palantir to communicate with my father, I mean … ” he flushes slightly, “Denethor not Aragorn. We all assumed that Sauron carried it with him to Barad-dûr but what if it was left in Minas Ithil or perhaps its remains were brought back here, when the dark tower was destroyed or at least some of them were and others were scattered. Perhaps that is what Morinehtar and Romestamo have been searching for.”

“There is some sense in what ye say lad” Gimli says, “It would explain why these bands of Haradrim are still here, they were obviously looking for something. Well if those rocks are part of a seeing stone that has been corrupted then it is even more important that we destroy as much of it as possible.”

“But first we have to go back to Minas Tirith and tell Aragorn what we have learned, and then we have to work out how to carry all of these pieces north to find the fire-drakes.”

“That is if any of the foul beasts still exist” Gimli growls

“Well Mithrandir certainly believed that to be the case for he talked of them with my father just before the Ring War.” I tell him.

“Let us hope he was right if that is the only way we can destroy this stone.” My dwarf mutters as we turn in through the broken gates.

We spend another four days at the settlement, helping to put things to rights as best we can. The fragments of stone are all collected placed in buckets and lowered into the well. I did offer to climb down to check the bottom, but this offer was very firmly rejected by Gimli. I do not know why I could easily have done so for there were foot and handholds in the brickwork, however I did not argue I was too happy to see the dark materials disappear into its depths to complain.

Gimli has shown the villagers how best to repair the gates and strengthen them to prevent someone breaking through them as we did. We help to dig a new well, and ensure that the pits are filled in.   
By the time we are ready to leave almost all of the villagers have returned, and already the men are looking to build a new hall where everyone can meet together. Fordwin, Gerta and her sister see us off.  
With many words of thanks and hopes that they will see us again, that is a possibility of course since someone will have to come here to collect the stones and it may well be us on our journey north to the Withered Heath.  
For now, I am glad to be going home, and to be free from the call of the dark materials that have plagued me in the last months. I am looking forward to a quiet ride back to Gondor with Gimli and Faramir at my side.


End file.
